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PLAYS 

for 

MERRY ANDREWS 

By 

ALFRED KREYMBORG 




New York, The Sunwise Turn 
1920 



^t^^ 




Copyright, 1920 
BY The Sunwise Turn 



Dramatic Rights Reserved by the author. For permission 
to perform any of these plays, address the author, care of 
the publisher . Infringement of copyrights will be prosecuted. 



■-Jv -b li^u 



iCi,AG04511 



CONTENTS 

Vote the New Moon, 

A Toy Play 5 

At the Sign of the Thumb and Nose, 

An Unmorality Play 29 

Uneasy Street, 

A Folk Play 63 

The Silent Waiter, 

A Tragi-Comedy loi 

Monday, 

A Lame Minuet I43 



VOTE THE NEW MOON 

A Toy Play 



To John Reed and Louise Bryant: 
In return for a mere Russian picture postcard. 



VOTE THE NEW MOON 

A Toy Play 
CHARACTERS 

THE TOWN CRIER 
BURGHER 
BURGESS 

CANDIDATE BLUE 
CANDIDATE RED 
THE CATFISH 



The Stage is dark and noiseless . . . sud- 
denly, a sound . . . like the sound of a stealthy step 
. . . suddenly, another . . . like the sound of a crier s 
bell . . . suddenly , a third . . . the sound of his sing- 
song . . . 

Burgher and Burgess of this town — 
dark has been dark entirely too long — 
dark has been dark since the old moon 

fell- 
a-flung to the river and a-gobbled by the 

Fish! 
Burgher and Burgess— return from your 

snooze — 
a moon helped us ever to see in the dark! — 
snooze too long and you'll snooze your 
sight away! — 

[7] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



a burg is blind sans burgomaster! 
You know Vm not an alliterative pun- 
ster! — 
the affairs of this realm are so close to my 

heart, 
my heart's all a-riddle and a-riddle will 

remain, 
till you wake this election and vote the 

new moon! 
Light comes suddenly . . . behold a 
town-crier . . . who looks like a scarecrow . . . or a 
rag-doll . . . the stage is bare . . . buty like a magic 
property-man, he makes mathematic passes . . . and 
behold, in accordance with his next address, delivered with 
mysterious gusto . . . a sequence of building-blocks 
. beginning with a gate . 

You wouldn't be there, and I wouldn't be 

here — 
if this were not a play, and it did not have 

a plot — so: 
Here I stand at the gate to our town — 
let me step inside and prove it such — so! 
Presto, a house — a-painted blue — 
belongs to our Burgher — you'll see him 

anon! 
Presto, another — a-painted red — 
belongs to our Burgess — you'll see him 

too! 
Prestissimo, a third — a-painted like the 

first — 
belongs to one candidate — Candidate 

Blue! 



[8] 



Vote The New Moon 



Prestissimo, a fourth — a-painted like the 

second — 
belongs to his rival — Candidate Red! 
The fifth house— summit!— with the belfry 

a-top — 
that's the town-hall where burgomasters 

dwell — 
hark ye, it's been empty, since we slew the 

last- 
look down the lane, and you'll see a purple 

strip — 
the mystic little stream where we throw 

them when they're through — 
ex-burgomastersanddefeatedcandidates! — 
wherein Red or Blue, this day, is gobbled 

by the Fish — 
our longitudinous, latitudinous, altitudi- 

nous God — 
half of Him Cat, half of Him Fish, 
half of Him fur, half of Him scales, 
half of Him earth, half of Him water- 
half of Him life— the other half— death!! 
This isn't moonlight — it's mornlight, or 

dawn! — 
later, when the vote begins, the dark will 

return — 
then — suddenly — as sudden as a sword — 
what looks like a belfry will look like a 

moon — 
red or blue the color— and the dark dis- 
appear! 
Burgher, always for the blue, Burgess for 

[9] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



the red — 
woe, if they vote no moon — oblivion would 

come! . . . 
Burgher and Burgess of this town — 
dark has been dark everlastingly long — 
wake — it's election day — vote your new 

moon! 
One for the blue — oh — one for the red! 
He raps on the Citizens' doors . 

after a pause. Burgher and Burgess pop out . . . 

like J acks'in-the-hox . . . the one in blue, the other 

in red . . . they look woefully thin and sleepy . . . 

their responses are categorical . 

CRIER — Morrow — Burgher — ^what means this tar- 

diness ? 

BURGHER — It means what it means — 

CRIER — Morrow — Burgess — why this laggard air? 

BURGESS — It means what it means — 

CRIER — Dolts — do you know what day this is ? 

DUO — We — do — 

CRIER — Oafs — aware how great it is? 

DUO — We — are — 

CRIER — Sensible of the need of it ? 

DUO — We — are — 

CRIER — Would you feel the loss of it ? 

DUO — We — would — 

CRIER — How would you feel the loss of it ? 

BURGHER — We wouldn't — 

BURGESS — Be able to see — 

CRIER — Would you like a loss like that ? 

DUO — We — would — 

CRIER — You — would ? 

[10] 



Vote The New Moon 



DUO — 
CRIER 



We — would — 
Louts — loons 



blockheads — how dare 



your 



? — 



are you deaf? — deaf with sleep? — repeat! 

Would you like a loss like that ? 

We — wouldn't — 

Again — louder! 

We — wouldn't — 

Are you ready for the vote ? — pinch your- 
selves! 

We — are — 

Scratch your heads — kick yourselves! 

We — are — 

Then where are your party flags ? — flown ? 
—eh? 

Oh! 

Oh! 

Two pennants . . . a blue and a red 
. . . wriggle up the Citizens' flag-poles . . . flutter 
at the tops . . . 

Where are your party hammers? — eh? — 
oh? 

Oh! 

Oh! 

Hammers . . . harmless as to size 
appear in each right hand. . . 



DUO — 
CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER 

DUO 

CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER — 

DUO — 
CRIER — 



CRIER — 



DUO — 
CRIER 



CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER — 
BURGHER — 
CRIER — 
BURGESS — 



Will you vote as always ? 
We— will— 

You, Burgher, vote for Blue? 
I — ^will — ^glory to the moon! 
You, Burgess, vote for Red? 
I — will — glory to the moon! 

[II] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



CRIER — Citizens — lift the hammer! Higher! — 

still higher! — don't smite yet! — attention! 
They had begun to rap each other, auto- 
matically, on the head . . . 

First let me hear your lilts — 
years are years — and old as you are — 
age as sleepy and stupid as yours — 
habit, itself, forgets itself — now! 

BURGHER — One for the blue — 

BURGESS — One for the red — 

CRIER — Good! 

BURGHER — One for the blue — 

BURGESS — One for the red — 

CRIER — That will do — 

BURGHER — One for the blue — 

BURGESS — One for the — 

CRIER — That — will — do! 

Now — face each other — are you ready? 

DUO — We — are — 

ready for the moon — 

CRIER — Citizens — beware — vote honestly! 

They rap and vote . . . 'one for the blue, 

one for the red' . . . but as they proceed, their strokes 

and voices grow feebler . . . meantime, the Crier, 

nodding to the drowsy tempo, has brought his attention back 

to the audience . . . 

One for the blue — one for the red — ^you 

hear, 
good folk — we shall soon see our moon — 
you see — special interest is felt in this 

hour — 
in that we've had up to the present hour — 

[12] 



Vote The New Moon 



one for the blue — one for the red — 
we've had up to the present era of our 

realm, 
seventy-two blue moons and seventy-two 

red!— 
so that particular interest invades this par- 
ticular election — 
one for the blue — one for the red — 
insofar as it will determine definitely and 

irrevocably — 
not alone who shall be our new burgo- 
master — 
but which shall be our seventy-third! — 
which definite and irrevocable decision is 

eHcited, 
you see — by the simplest, the most naive 

process in history — 
of — one for the blue — one for the red — 
of citizen smiting citizen on the head — 
until one or the other falls insensible — 
Accidentally, drowsily, somehow or other 
. the Citizens reverse their votes . 
BURGHER — One for the red — 
burgess — One for the blue — 

crier — What's that? — am I too falling asleep? — 

burgher — One for the red — 

crier — In consequence of this indigenous phenom- 

enon — 
to which Solon himself would have bent 
homage — 
burgess — One for the blue — 
CRIER — Am I dreaming? — excuse me while I listen! 

[13] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



BURGHER — 
BURGESS — 
CRIER — 



CRIER 



The Citizens are no longer drowsy . 
they have stopped hammering . . . their voices, under 
the strange influence of the transposition of motives, have 
grown impudent . 

One for the red — 

One for the blue — 

Bones of dead moonbeams — 

what treachery is this ? 

The Citizens stop lilting and face front 
the hammers fall to the ground . 

Blood of the sacred stream — 

what regicide is this ? 

Burgher — what do you mean by, one for 
the red — 

Burgess — you, by, one for the blue? 

I mean — 

I mean — 

What do you mean ? 

We mean — 

We're tired — 

Tired? 

Of old moons — 

We want — 

You want ? — 

A new moon! 

Clowns — you'll have a new moon ? 

We'll not! 

Aren't you voting for one? 

We're not! 

This is perplexing — amazing — dumfound- 
ing! 

Dotards — ^what then are you voting for? 

[14] 



BURGHER — 
BURGESS — 
CRIER — 
BURGHER — 

BURGESS 

CRIER — 
BURGHER — 
BURGESS — 
CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER — 
DUO — 
CRIER — 



Vote The New Moon 



DUO- 

crier 



DUO - 
CRIER 



DUO — The same old moon — 

BURGHER — A blue moon — 
BURGESS — Or a red — 
CRIER — You two are in league — 

you want a change? — ha! 

Burgher — you want a red now — 

Burgess — you a blue? 

How would that be a change? 

It wouldn't — 

Then you don't want a change? — 

Imbeciles — what do you want? — 

A change 

Ha — numbskulls — idiots — dissemblers — 

elucidate yourselves — your do and don't — 

spit it out — or I'll march you down the 
lane — 

into the river — into the Fish! 
DUO — Br! 

CRIER — Ha — begin! 

Hiding behind each other ifi turn and nudg- 
ing each other with secret encouragement . . . they 
speak . . . with an obviousness bordering on mys- 
tery, an innocence on roguery 
BURGHER — Cheese, though it melt, will always be 

cheese — 
BURGESS — Milk left standing too long always turns 

sour — 
BURGHER — A dog with four legs always runs on four 

legs— 
BURGESS — An arm is always as long as it reaches — 
CRIER — This is cataclysmic — what does it mean ? 

DUO — It means what it means — 

[IS] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



BURGHER — If hair falls out, a head grows bald — 

BURGESS — A knife cuts bread, it doesn't cut water — 

CRIER — Ah — I begin to see — you're tired ? 

DUO — We're tired — 

CRIER — Tired of the old ways ? — 

DUO — Old way — 

CRIER — Old moons ? — 

DUO — Old moon — 

CRIER — Laws, customs, routine? — 

DUO — Old everything! 

CRIER — I perceive your abracadabra — 

DUO — You — do ? 

CRIER — Hm! 

DUO — Hm ? 

CRIER — Hm! 

The Crier needs more than a moment's re- 
flection . . . shakes his head . . . suddenly, he 
flaps his sides like a rooster, and then raps at the doors of the 
Candidates . . . after a pause, they issue forth, dressed 
respectively in blue and red . . . although they also 
look like Jacks-in-the-box, they have apparently more dig- 
nity than the Citizens . . . but like them, they appear 
woefully thin and sleepy . . . 
BLUE — Which of us — ^wins ? 

RED — Which of us — dies ? 

CRIER — Neither! 

DUO — Neither ? 

CRIER — The vote was interrupted — 

BLUE — Then why — are we called ? 

RED — An astonishing — precedent surely — 

BLUE — Never heard of before — 

RED — Nor written either — 



[i6 



Vote The New Moon 



BLUE — It's not — in the charter — 

RED — The laws — statutes — decrees — 

CRIER — Silence — debate comes later — 

attention first to the rigmarole! 
BLUE — The — rigmarole ? 

RED — On — election day? 

BLUE — Never heard of before — 

RED — Nor written either — 

DUO — It's illegal! 

CRIER — Silence — heed the oflficial oath — 

strike your traditional poses and paces, 

as if it weren't election — now! 

The Candidates adhere to the methodical pos- 
tures and movements required by the rigmarole . 
CRIER — Make of your lips 

a hard straight line; 

parallel with them your eyes; 

make of your cheeks and chin 

two strict right angles, 

and of your ears and nose 

two more; 

have the part in your hair 

diameter your head, 

forehead, nose, lips and chin; 

stick your arms 

to your thorax and thighs. 

Have your legs move, 

since move they must, 

in imperceptible perpendiculars, 

like hidden two-four pendulums. 

And some day, 

so dignified a structure 

[17] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 




will be hailed, 




Burgomaster! 


BLUE — 


Now then! 


R^D — 


Let us crawl back to bed! 


crier — 


Sirrahs! 


RED 


Fm SO sleepy — 


BLUE 


So am I — 


RED 


No hour to call a candidate — 


BLUE 


It's too early — not yet dark — 


CRIER 


Precisely! 


DUO 


Precisely? 


CRIER 


Cease your prate — ^while I disclose — 




this most stupendous — most stupefying — 




this super-superlative phenomenon! 


DUO — 


Eh? 


CRIER 


Eye those two culprits — do you know 




them ? 


DUO — 


We— do! 


CRIER — 


Do you recall haranguing them ? 


BLUE — 


Many a time — 


RED — 


And often! 


CRIER — 


What has been ever and always 




the cause for your haranguing them? 


DUO — 


The — vote! 


CRIER — 


Which vote ? 


DUO — 


The vote for me! 


CRIER — 


Now, politic sirs — 




do you admit the following items ? 




Dark is dark without a moon ? 


DUO — 


We— do! 


CRIER — 


A burg is blind sans burgomaster? 


DUO 


We— do! 



[i8 



Vote The New Moon 


CRIER — 


What elects the burgomaster? 


DUO — 


The — vote! 


CRIER 


Who select the vote ? 


DUO 


The — voters! 


CRIER 


And who and what elect the moon ? 


DUO 


I— do— 




by vote of the voters! 


CRIER 


How do you attain this dignity? 


BLUE 


Through numerical superiority — 


RED 


And the smiting insensible! 


CRIER 


Gaze upon yon twain! 




They do so . . . zvith a heightening 


consciousness 


of the situation . . . 


CRIER 


Have you gazed ? 


DUO 


We— have! 


CRIER 


Do you begin to discover the prodigy ? 


DUO 


We— don't! 


CRIER 


Dolts — gaze again — steadfastly — 




do you recognize yon twain ? 


DUO 


Most adorable constituent — 


BLUE 


Burgher mine — 


RED 


Burgess mine — 


CRIER 


No longer yours! 


DUO 


Eh? 


CRIER 


Candidate Blue — 




do you see Burgess insensible ? 


BLUE 


Alas — I do not! 


CRIER 


What does that mean ? 


BLUE — 


It means — I lose — I die — 


CRIER — 


It does not! 


BLUE 


Eh? 


CRIER — 


Candidate Red — 



[19 



Plays For Merry Andrews 




do you see Burgher insensible ? 


RED — 


I do not — ah me! 


crier — 


What does that mean ? 


red — 


It means — I lose — I die — ^ 


crier — 


It does not! 


RED — 


Eh? 


CRIER — 


Addle-pates — 




it means — they haven't voted- 


BLUE — 


To be sure — 


RED 


It's too early — 


BLUE — 


Not yet dark — 


CRIER — 


It means — they have refused to vote — 


DUO — 


Refused? 


CRIER — 


Burgher refuses to vote for Blue — 


BLUE — 


Burgher! 


CRIER — 


Burgess refuses to vote for Red — 


RED — 


Burgess! 


CRIER — 


Contrariwise — 




Burgher refuses to turn to Red — 


RED — 


Burgher! 


CRIER — 


Burgess refuses to turn to Blue — 


BLUE — 


Burgess! 


CRIER — 


Do I speak truth — demogrades ? 


CITIZENS — 


You do! 


BLUE — 


Amazing — 


RED — 


Dumfounding — 


CRIER — 


That's what I said — now — 




it means furthermore — 


DUO — 


Furthermore ? 


CRIER — 


That ye twain are to blame — 


DUO — 


We— are? 


CRIER — 


Your haranguing's to blame — was — 




[20] 



Vote The New Moon 




it was non-sufficient — non-alluring — 




non-sufficient to sway the hearts of two 




dolts— 




non-alluring towards the votes of two 




dolts — 




dolts can't move dolts! 


DUO — 


Eh? 


crier — 


Citizens — do I speak further truth ? 


DUO — 


You do! 


BLUE — 


My haranguing — 


RED — 


My eloquence — 


BLUE — 


My silvery phraseology — 


RED — 


My golden rhodomontade — 


BLUE — 


Inspirational of ages past — 


RED 


Polished, beautified, perfected — 


BLUE — 


Non-sufficient ? 


RED — 


Non-alluring ? 


CRIER — 


Precisely! 


DUO — 


What does it signify? 


CRIER — 


It signifies — and grievous the significa- 




tion — 




you'll have to harangue all over again! 


QUARTETTE — 


- Bones of dead moonbeams! 


CRIER — 


Would you have dark remain dark? 


QUARTETTE — 


- Br! 


CRIER — 


Would you have oblivion come ? 


QUARTETTE — 


- Br!! 


CRIER — 


Would you have the sacred stream — 




and the sacred purple Catfish — 


QUARTETTE — 


- Br!!! 


CRIER — 


You begin to look like eels — 




nocturnal, toothsome eels? 



[21] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



QUARTETTE 
CRIER 



Shall the Catfish gobble you ? 

Br!!! 

Gaze upon the belfry — 

it is empty, is it not ? 

Citizens — do you want to see a new 



moon 



? 





even a dainty sliver of a moon ? 


DUO 


We do! 


CRIER — 


Candidates — do you, too, want to see — 


DUO 


We do! 


CRIER — 


All ensemble — do you want to see — 


QUARTETTE - 


- We do!! 


CRIER 


How will you — and when ? 


CANDIDATES - 


— By haranguing — 


CITIZENS 


By voting! 


CRIER 


Paladins of this, our realm — gird your 




tongues — 




retainers of this, our realm — your ears! 




Do you gird ? 


QUARTETTE - 


- We do!! 


CRIER — 


Speak — great spellbinders! 




Wearily, the Candidates make the effort of 


Speaking . 


. . warily, the Citizens, the effort of listen- 


ing . . . 


the Crier furtively watching the latter . . . 


BLUE 


I come to you to-day — 


RED 


I come to you this day — 


BLUE 


With a profound appeal to your discrimi- 




nation — 


RED 


With the lofty purpose of lifting your 




thoughts on high — 


BLUE 


With the special intention of nobly cate- 




chising you — 




[22] 



Vote The New Moon 



BLUE — 

red — 
blue — 

DUO — 

red — 

BLUE — 



RED — Towards the duties and pleasures of the 

honored — 

In the duties and joys of those conferring 
honor — 

I who come to you this day — 

On me who come to you to-day — 

In behalf of the new-moon-to-be — 

The red moon — 

The blue moon! 

They glare at each other momentarily . . . 
like skinny dogs closing over the same old bone . 
BURGHER {sotto voce) — It's they who are in league! 
BURGESS {ditto) — They who conspire! 
BURGHER — Each spcaks like t'other — 
BURGESS — Each mouths like t'other — 

Silence — babblers ! 

Eh? 

Not ye — continue — majestic your orations! 

It is difficult — 

Very difficult — 

I've always spoken alone — to Burgher 
alone — 

I alone to Burgess alone! 

This is sorely non-customary — 
BLUE — Non-conformative — 

RED — Unwritten — 

BLUE — Unspoken — 

CRIER — Ye are noble as swans — 

sailing down-stream — 

sailing to victory — sailing to death — 
RED — I don't mind dying — 

BLUE — I've done it before — 

[23] 



CRIER — 
CANDIDATES 

CRIER 

BLUE — 

RED 

BLUE 

RED 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



RED — 
BLUE — 

BURGHER 

BURGESS 

CRIER 

CANDIDATES 
CRIER — 

RED — 
BLUE — 

RED 

BLUE — 
RED — 
BLUE — 
RED — 
BLUE — 
RED — 
BLUE — 

BURGHER — 
BURGESS — 
CANDIDATES - 

try to glower 

RED — 

BLUE — 

RED — 

BLUE — 
RED — 



your perora- 



I mind not sleeping — 
Not finishing sleeping — 
Fraudulent — 
Frauds — 
Silence — rabble! 
-Eh? 
Not ye — continue — inflate 

tions! 
I need hardly testify — 
Quite superfluous the occasion — 
That the moon I glorify — 
Of celebrating the personality — 
That all-seeing crimson semi-circle — 
Of the all-cleaving azure scimitar — 
Infesting all-dark with all-light — 
Hewing, slashing all-black with all-white — 
Incontestably bringing day to your night — 
Bedecking your heads with splinters so 

bright — 
You hear? — 
How they rhyme ? — 
And making manifest to you — 
They stop and glower at each other . . . 

The potency of rouge — impotence of 

bluish — 
Eh, of sapphire, turquoise, lapis lazuli? — 
impotence of pinkish! — 
Eh, of scarlet, carbuncle, flush of the 

rose ? — 
Flush of the tomato! — 
Red which brings blushes to women — 

[24] 



Vote The New Moon 



love and desire to men ? — 
blue — Blue which kindles the eyes of women — 

kindles the veins of men ? — 
RED — Blue which you taste in milk, half water ? — 

burgher — Milk left standing too long turns to 

water — 
BLUE — Burgher! I'm aghast! 

BURGESS — Red sunsets are made of dead dawns — 
RED — Burgess! Fm smitten! 

CANDIDATES — What does this mean ? 
CRIER — Louder, mutes — harangue them — silence 

them — 

deafen them^deaden them! — 
CANDIDATES — Damn them! 
CITIZENS — Damn theml 
CANDIDATES — Damn them to the moon — 
CITIZENS — Damn them to the moon — 
CANDIDATES — Damn them to the river — 
CITIZENS — Damn them to the Catfish — 
CANDIDATES — Oh, damn the Catfish! — 
CRIER — Mutiny — insurrection — revolution — 

homicide — fratricide — patricide ! — 

sacred purple Cat — sacred purple Fish — 

pardon — mercy — mercy — pardon ! — 
QUARTETTE — Damn the Catfish!! 
CRIER — Sacrilege!! 

Immediately . . . from the river 
. . . there comes an ominous crescendo . . . swish 
. . . szvish . . . flop . . . 
QUARTETTE — What was that ? 
CRIER — Save yourselves — 

harangue — vote — vote — harangue — 



[25] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 




or vengeance will fall! — 




vote — harangue — harangue — vote — 




death and perdition — 




voices — lungs — bellows — roar! 




Darkness shrouds the scene . . . a 


weird violet 


light creeps jrom the river . . . rises 


gradually . 


. . like a spectre . . . 


CRIER — 


The light — the fumes — 




the dead are rising — 




moons — burgomasters — people — 




the blue — the red — all purple! 


RED — 


V-vote for the blue moon — 




I m-mean for the red — 


BLUE 


V-vote for the red moon — 




I m-mean for the blue — 


CRIER 


Blunderers! 


BURGHER 


One for the purple — 


BURGESS 


One for the purple — 


BURGHER 


One for the purple — 


BURGESS 


One for the purple 


CRIER 


Blasphemers! — 




an evil spirit's got you! — 




Fish — mercy — pardon — 


CANDIDATES 


— V-vote for the Fish! — 


CITIZENS 


One for the purple — 




One for the purple — 




The sound of hammer blows grows louder. 


more rapid 


. . . din . . . clatter . . . groans 



CRIER 



Burgher — Burgess — 

smite each other\ — not them!- 

each other! — can't you see? 

[26I 



Vote The New Moon 



BURGHER — 

BURGESS 

CRIER 



BURGESS 

CRIER 



BURGHER — Die, dog! — 
CRIER — Burgher — 

youVe killed him — 

your man — your moon — 

And ril gobble him! — 

Die, dog! — 

Burgess — 

you've killed him — 

your man — your moon — 

ril devour him! 

I hear crunching of bones! — 

help — murder — cannibals — ghouls ! — 

Burgher's swallowed Blue — Burgess, 
Red! 

now they're eating each other!! — 

Crunch for the purple — 

Crunch for the purple — 

Speak — Burgher — Burgess — 

which is it? 

which swallowed which ? — 
CATFISH (in sepulchral tone) — The — Fish!! 

I — swallowed — them all!! 

Monster ! — demon ! — 

save me! — spare me!! 

I'll spare you! 

My belly's full! 

The violet has deepened to purple 
one can now see a huge, misshapen figure . , . 
times the girth of Candidates and Citizens . . . a com- 
plete purple resemblance . . . with appendages of 
whiskers, fins and tail . 
CRIER — My Master — King — 

[27] 



BURGHER — 
BURGESS — 
CRIER — 



CRIER 



CATFISH — 



four 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



CATFISH — Your — Fate! 

Down — dog! 

The Crier falls on all fours . . . so 
does the Catfish . . . 
CATFISH — To the town hall! 
crier — To the — town — hall! 

He crawls to the entrance of the town hall 
. . the Catfish follows pompously . . . the Crier 
throws open the door . . . announces . . . 

The new B-burgomaster! 

The Catfish enters . . . instanta- 
neously, a moon appears in the belfry . . . purple 
. the Crier sees it and rises . 

The new M-moon! 

Purple! 

Color of kingship! 

Woe!! 

J frightful hubbub inside the hall . . . 

What does it mean ? — 

what — is it — now? 

He disappears . . . the hubbub ceases 
. • . . . suddenly, the ghostly, terror-stricken face of the 
Crier appears in the belfry . . . like a Jack-in-the-box 
moon-face profile . . . he pulls the invisible rope, and 
the bell tolls . . . more like a dirge, than a paean 
. . . he tries to sing-song categorically . . . 

H-hark ye — h-hear ye — 

the old moon is d-dead— 

1-long live — the n-new!! 



CURTAIN. 

[28] 



AT THE SIGN OF THUMB AND NOSE 

An Unmorality Play 



AT THE SIGN OF THE THUMB 
AND NOSE 

An Unmorality Play 



AL QUE QUIERE! 

Sandpapered with the affection of his ego, 
this gentle screed is dedicated by its 
author for the scratching of the egos of: 

CONRAD AIKEN, 

ORRICK JOHNS, 

CARL SANDBURG, 

WALLACE STEVENS, 

WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS 

in distinction of and contradistinction to: 

JESSIE AIKEN, 

GRACE JOHNS, 

LILLIAN SANDBURG, / 

ELSIE STEVENS, ^ 

FLORENCE WILLIAMS, 

DOROTHY KREYMBORG — 

whom it may concern! 



[31 



AT THE SIGN OF THE THUMB 
AND NOSE 

An Unmorality Play 



CHARACTERS 
EGO, the innkeeper. 

twins who desire the same lady. 



PROPER I 



IMPROPER J 

BELLY, who cannot eat. 

LAZY, who cannot dream. 

FASTIDIOUS, whose intellect is awry. 

LADY, who desires not Proper and Improper. 

A small inn, anyhow, anywhere, anytime; 
bar, with kitchen beyond, through a door; three or four tables; 
the dingy atmosphere of a cellar; the symbol of the inn over 
the bar. A door of ingress and egress. Forlorn-looking 
denizens: Proper and Lazy at one table, with a manuscript 
between them; Improper and Belly at another, the latter eat- 
ing and drinking; Fastidious at a third, smoking an aristo- 
cratic cheroot; Ego behind the bar, irascibly cleaning mugs 
and glasses. Their physical attributes, bearing and attire 
characteristically grotesque. They might be mistaken for 
gargoyles on a holiday. 

The tempo is that of a pompous dynamo 
rollicking. 

PROPER — Disaster again, good Lazy.? Gods of ca- 

lamity — ^what is it this time .? 

[33 1 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



LAZY — 



PROPER 



FASTIDIOUS — 

IMPROPER 

BELLY 

PROPER 

LAZY 

PROPER 



FASTIDIOUS 
IMPROPER - 



The same tearful extremity, Proper — 

though a strong phrase or two put to sea 

they'll Split on mere commas when 
stupidity blows! 

Your compass is clouded, that's all, for 
the nonce — 

wipe it off — still finer phrases will gleam 

like galleons — captain them haven- 
ward! 

I'll be utterly and abysmally undone — 

I told her I'd bring her a poem so 
ethereal, 

breathed upon by my ineffable thought 
of her, 

housed in the safe bark of your well- 
ribbed artistry — 

Overburdened with adjectives, cavilling 
metaphors — 

Doddering moonshine. Fastidious — 

I can't eat, I can't drink — 

I vowed her I'd bring it this night to her 
lattice! 

She rejected my others as were she an 
editrice! 

The sin was mine, not yours, good 
Lazy — 

Now, this latest and most shimmeringly 
seductive of all the products of my 
love and your invention — 

sends forth fragrance of hyacinths — 

Exhalation of ineptitude — 

Stench of chicken entrails — 

[341 



At The 


Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 


BELLY — 


My palate's green, my appetite pink — 


PROPER 


Silence, ye! 




The start is so winsome, sweet Lazy — 




lilt it aloud once again. 




and the coda will come of the da capo! 


FASTIDIOUS 


No! 


IMPROPER 


No! 


BELLY 


No! 


PROPER 


Master, I appeal to you. Master! 


EGO 


Silence, you — with your 




once again, once more, once again! 





You scapegrace, tatterdemalion — 




you and your love and your twin and his 




lust! 


IMPROPER 


Master — 


EGO — 


Silence, you! 




Dupe that I was to raise the latch 




of free hospitality to you twain! 


BELLY 


They've soured my stomach so food 




tastes like offal — 


FASTIDIOUS — 


It has become an impossibility 




for my intellectural apparatus to pursue 




its accustomed mazes — 


LAZY — 


I cannot dream, cogitate, compose — 


EGO 


This tavern is twined and snarled 



FASTIDIOUS 



with a bedlam of cantankerous idiots — 

this exquisite domicile I erected 

to the repose of liberty, independence, 

selfhood — 
A place for an impersonal contemplation 

of the interior — 
and a corresponding scorn of the ex- 



35 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



tenor — 
BELLY — I am I and to Hell with all else — 

EGO — Dedicated to the art of being wholly 

oneself — 
FASTIDIOUS — Regardless of aeons or eternity — 
EGO — Is threatened with destruction by a 

female! 
PROPER — Is raised to lordhood by a lady — 

BELLY — A bandy-legged she-bitch — 

FASTIDIOUS — Through sexual aberration — 
EGO — The wanting of wantons — 

PROPER — I do not want her — 

IMPROPER — I want her — 
PROPER — I want her for herself — 

what I can be for her — 
IMPROPER — I want her for myself — 

what she can be for me — 
PROPER — I want myself for her — 

IMPROPER — Damn herself — I want myself — 
LAZY — Stop them, Master — 

BELLY — They're belching again — 

FASTIDIOUS — Their rondo deafens me — 
PROPER — She'd love me if it weren't for him — 

IMPROPER — I'd have her if it weren't for him — 
EGO — Silence, you two — and silence, you 

three! 
Give heed while I lilt my dainty screed, 
undistrubed by ship-wrecking semi- 
colons! 
Fancy my faith and the labor I've con- 
secrated being smirched by heretic 
slammerkins — 

[36] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



I'll 



rii 



ril clean you two mugs or throw you to 

the gutter! 
Fancy the I being touched by the 

thought of a you, whether woman, 

world, time or the gods themselves! 
Have your hearts turned to cows, your 

senses to milking ? 

be fair with you two, and you 

three — 

rehearse our credo judicially, little 

though you deserve it! Attention 

to the catechism! 
To what are we canonized ? 
the company — The self! 

Proper, what is the self? 
The right to individuality and the ex- 
pression thereof. 
Improper, how is this right manifested ? 
What the I feels, thinks or wants, 
the I is free to feel, think or want — 
regardless of neighbors. 
Neighbors, ah — and what are neighbors, 

Lazy ? 
Any body or thing which isn't the I, 

and — 
Any body or thing which interferes 

with the I! 
You needn't respond. Fastidious — 
you're conscience itself in our midst! 
Belly, how does the self premonstrate in 

you.? 
BELLY — I maintain a stomach, and ways to that 

[37] 



EGO 

PROPER 



EGO — 
IMPROPER 



EGO 



LAZY — 



FASTIDIOUS 



EGO 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



EGO- 
LAZY 



EGO 



FASTIDIOUS 



EGO 



IMPROPER 

PROPER 

EGO 

IMPROPER 



PROPER — 



Stomach — 

they are hungry — I eat and drink — 

the stomach and its ways go back to 
sleep! 

Lazy, how premonstrate in you? 

If I do not dream, there's no concern for 
the morrow, 

without which concern for the morrow, 
to-day dies! 

Cleverly vocalized — and you. Fastid- 
ious — 

If I weren't a logician, there'd be no 
concern for to-day, 

without which to-day, to-morrow would 
never be born! 

Brave pragmatist, your job is no simple- 
ton's! 

Improper — 

I've no teeth for masticating theories — 

Nor I! 

Mutiny! 

The self remonstrates in me — 

my blood's a torrent with it — my senses 
wild hounds — 

the flesh I crave has the shape of a 
woman — 

a terrible creature with eyes, mouth, 
arms, limbs — 

A being more vaporous than perfume — 

to whom I pray as were she a goddess, 

to whom I shall throw my carcass, 

impediment of my spirit — 



38 



At The 


Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 




as sacrifice of my self to her self — 


EGO — 


Sacrileglsts! 


PROPER — 


Would you have us ape what we no 




longer believe ? 


EGO 


Conspirators! 


IMPROPER 


Ape the sanctimonious, like Fastidious? 


FASTIDIOUS 


Sirrah! 


EGO 


Infidels — atheists — 


PROPER 


Freethinkers — 


IMPROPER 


Latitudinarians! 




Ego comes forward and stations himself 



behind Fastidious. 



EGO — 



PROPER 



IMPROPER 



BELLY 

EGO 



Numskulls — 

how can thought be free, slave to a 

woman ? 
I am no longer I — I am she — 
and freer than ever I was in this den! 
I'll turn her into me — and me into her — 
and be the bigger I for it — 
Like a body plus a round fat squab! 
This is insurrection! 
Wash you two clean or throw you to the 



gutter 



I have gentler eloquence for preaching 
mug-souls! 

He points a piratical six-shooter at the 
twins and waves it about with humorous carelessness. 
THE COMPANY — Master, Master! 



PROPER — • 

improper — 

PROPER 

improper — 



Spare us — 
Spare us — 
Excellency! 
Sovereign! 

[39 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



EGO — {slipping the weapon out of sight) — 

You recall a tune I adore. 
I thought you'd forgotten it — 
maybe you have! Lazy, 
the friendly little air you composed years 

ago— 
will you beat choir-master? 
LAZY — That was in the days of rhyme, sir! 

FASTIDIOUS — Rhyming was law till you turned icono- 
clast! 
THE COMPANY — {as Lazy beats time) — 

Master Ego, Master Ego, 
we are you, and you are we-oh! 
BELLY — I am the body which provideth thee 

nourishment — 
FASTIDIOUS — I the cool brain which counseleth thy 

flourishment — 
LAZY — I the high bird which wingeth thy 

soul — 
THE TWINS — We the harriers which bring thee thy 

dole — 
THE COMPANY — Sovereign Ego, Sovereign Ego, 
we are you, and you are we-oh! 
FASTIDIOUS — That couplet still smiteth my ear-drum! 
EGO — And now, gentlemen — 

setting aside the prerogative of matter 

over spirit — 
ready as I am to admit my haste in the 

introduction of the firearm — 
and assuming, instead, that there's a 
moiety of excuse for the condition, 
and the action consequent thereupon, of 

[40] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



LAZY- 
BELLY 
EGO — 



FASTIDIOUS 
EGO — 



FASTIDIOUS — 
THE TWINS — 
THE COMPANY 
EGO 



our beloved culprits — 
Adorable Proper — 
Good my-brother Properim — 
A condition we cannot easily surmise, 
so strange is its intrusion in this hallowed 

place — 
Perdition take all non-conformity — 
Setting aside the firearm as primitive, 

primeval — 
let us approach this affair with the 

beneficent taper of civilized justice. 
It is possible our society has grown a 

trifle complex. 
With complexity, a certain measure of 

discomfiture will invade its person. 
Elements in themselves are as pure as 

little children, 
but when elements begin to assert them- 
selves — 
as is only natural of them under the urge 

of self-preservation — 
they come into contact with neighbor 

elements — 
without premeditation, without malice — 
Wise Master! 
We love each other — 
And thee. Master! 

In consequence of this disrupting phe- 
nomenon, 
it behooves me to assume, and to act 

directly, not tentatively, on the 

assumption, 

[41] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



that our law is in need of some slight re- 
vision or amendment — 
FASTIDIOUS — Not revision or amendment! 
EGO — Let me then say, of elongation! 

THE COMPANY — Hail, elongation! 

EGO — Each in his own way, equally with the 

rest, 

each is an I-am-I — 

we revamped that article a moment ago. 

But the prime and tragically urgent fac- 
tor is, it seems now, to wit, that we 
are living together, 

inside the dimensions vouchsafed to one 
and all 

our exquisite amity of the past hid the 
boundaries of, 

dimensions this event has bared like a 
wound — 

so that we become that part which hurts 
us most — 

and must turn physicians for its cure — 

or surgeons for its removal — 
FASTIDIOUS — You grow involved, wise Master! 
EGO — The event thus proves that our being an 

I-am-I 

insinuates relationship to an I-am-you, 

from which relationship new evaluations 
must be suckled. 

Proper has expressed a want for an out- 
side entity, whose cognomen we wot 
not of. 

Improper has expressed a want of an 

[42] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 

opposite tendency, parallel in po- 
tency, for the same person. 

Diversely, it seems that this foreign 
entity, 

for hindrances best known to her con- 
sciousness — 

doubtless because she's likewise an 
I-am-I, 

with desires and volitions of her own — 

has expressed thus far, so we learn, 

as little desire for our twins as they've 
vaunted much desire for her — 

in fact, none at all! 
THE TWINS — She would if it weren't for him! 
EGO — We've heard that palaver for days now — 

hush! 

And we've been advised, and painful the 
advisement, that Belly cannot eat, 

Lazy not finish his verses. Fastidious not 
ruminate, 

because of the irrelationship of the twins 
and this person! 
THE COMPANY — Excellency! 
EGO — We made our error at the outset — 

like Lazy, we began our poem with 
brave phrases 

which split on the first rock of disagree- 
ment. 

Let us begin with a new premise — 

and instead of quarreling, instead of re- 
verting to firearms, we will agree. 
THE COMPANY — Agree.? 

[43] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



EGO — 



FASTIDIOUS 



EGO 



Ready to consider contradiction on any 

paragraph of it, my suggestion is 

this: 
Let Fastidious aid Lazy with Proper's 

poem! 
That abominal eschewing of metre and 

rhyme ? 
Your past and his present will embrace 

in time — 
haven't you revised all his work so far? 

Hither, Lazy! 
Lazy comes to their table. Fastidious re- 



luctantly makes 


room for him and the manuscript. They 


begin revising. 






You, Belly, return to your eating and 




drinking — 




our brains require the cheer of your fuel 




for devising what we have to devise. 


BELLY — 


Stuff this porridge down my gullet ? 


EGO — 


I'll bake you a pheasant later! 


BELLY — 


Chef de cuisine! 


EGO — 


You, Proper and Improper, prepare 




yourselves for the combat! 


THE TWINS — 


Combat ? 


EGO — 


Array yourselves — 




make ready the fire of your hearts 




and the sagacity of your souls — 




for the one last courtship! 


THE TWINS — 


Last courtship ? 


EGO — 


You are to make her ours — 


THE COMPANY - 


— Ours? 


EGO — 


And failing to make her ours — 



44 



THE TWINS 
EGO — 



THE TWINS 
EGO — 

barbarously. 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



you are to unmake her yours — 

you must renounce her! 

Master! 

Obedience! I feel the firearm tickling 

my ribs! 
Which is your choice ? 
Obedience! 
Gird yourselves! 
They do so — Proper daintily, Improper 





Go to the lattice of your fair and urge her 




thither! 




Her I-am-I shall become an I-am-us — 




or you return empty-handed! 


IMPROPER — 


Empty-handed ? 


EGO — 


And never steal forth again in quest of 




foreign entities! 




Personally, I have no concern 




whatsoever, 




whether you return full-handed or 




empty — 




though the maid might amuse me a 




tittle. 




Are you ready? 


PROPER — 


One moment more for this crooked 




plume! 


IMPROPER — 


By my blood, Vm ready! 


EGO — 


And you. Belly — how is the fuel? 


BELLY — 


The fuel begins to go down. 


EGO — 


And you, poet and critic — 


FASTIDIOUS — 


The last line is egregiously banal — 


EGO — 


Read it. Lazy — 



45 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



EGO 



THE TWINS — 
EGO — 



LAZY — And my heart lifts and falls to your sun 

and moon! 

It will do! Give the thing to Proper! 

Proper and Improper — attention — are 
you prepared? 

Prepared! 

You may depart. 

They start to leave. 

Stop! Have you forgotten your 
manners ? 

Where is the sign? 

With a flourish, they exchange the deb- 
onair sign of the inn with the others. Ego alone refraining. 
Exeunt Proper and Improper. Pause. Lazy and Fas- 
tidious separate; Belly continues to eat; Ego goes towards the 
kitchen. Diminuendo ritardando. 

Whither wend you, Master? 

To the kitchen — and the pheasant. 

Is it surely a pheasant? 

While these carping dreamers were 
here — 

it was, patient Belly — 

but now they are gone, it's a goose. 

'Twill do. 

Ego disappears. 

Illusion's the window-shade 

Nature draws between desire and reaUty. 
BELLY — Who am I to twist my nose from a goose ? 

LAZY — When one is hungry, geese smell Hke 

myrrh ! 
BELLY — When one is hungry, geese smell like 



BELLY — 
EGO — 
BELLY — 
EGO — 



BELLY 



FASTIDIOUS 



geese! 



46 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 

And I'm hungry again — 

blessed that jade who whinnied them 

off— 
LAZY — The twins ? And I can juggle my 

thoughts — 
I see a monkey — another — another — 
where's my parchment ? 
He rummages in the drawer of a table. 
FASTIDIOUS — And that problem which engaged me a 

week ago — 
was I duelling with a shadow — 
did it fear the brawn of my brain — ah! 
Sings — 
If a rondel and a rondeau give birth to a 

child— 
they'll give birth to a child, that is cer- 
tain. 
Mere Rondel touched Pere Rondeau — 
once on his upper lip, once on his lower — 
she'll have a wee child in the fall — 
belly — (sings) — 

Pig, swine, boar, hog, sow, 
kings of quadruped avoirdupois — 
pork, knuckle, ham, bacon, chop — 
half of you lean and half of you fat — 
you and the butcher keep a biped round! 
FASTIDIOUS — Cease thy doggerel! 
Sings — 
what shall we name the child, queried 

Pere Rondeau — 
what shall we name the child, queried 

Mere Rondel ? 



47 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



If rondel wed rondeau in all propriety — 
LAZY — The child's name ought to be, Rondelay! 

FASTIDIOUS — You thieving baboon — 
LAZY — (sings) — I am four monkeys. 

One hangs from a limb, 

tail-wise, 

chattering at the earth; 

another is cramming his belly with 
cocoanut; 

the third is up in the top branches, 

quizzing the sky; 

and the fourth — 

he's chasing another monkey. 

How many monkeys are you ^ 



BELLY (sings) 





If you press your finger — 




be it here or be it there — 




I'll give way like a dimpling baby — 




take away your finger — 




be it here or be it there — 




the dimple's gone and I'm baby again! 




Oh — I have a pain, a cramp — 




something is sticking me! 




Crescendo accelerando. 


LAZY 


What is it. Belly.? 


FASTIDIOUS 


I, too — my apparatus is pricked — 




the shadow has got me — 


LAZY 


There's a tail round my neck — 




what is it — oh! 


FASTIDIOUS 


It's you and your obscene ditties — 


LAZY 


It is they! 


FASTIDIOUS 


Who.? 



[48 



At The 


Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 


LAZY — 


Proper and Improper — 


BELLY 


They've reached the female brothel — 


FASTIDIOUS 


Yes, otherwise — 


BELLY 


My appetitie wouldn't be dead — 




the goose stinks like a hedgehog — 


LAZY 


Something terrible is happening — 


BELLY 


I can feel it — 


FASTIDIOUS — 


I visualize — 


LAZY 


Master! 


FASTIDIOUS — 


Master! 


BELLY — 


Master! 




Ego comes running out. 


EGO — 


What has smitten you now ? 


LAZY 


A calamity — 


FASTIDIOUS — 


A holocaust — 


BELLY 


The hounds and the bitch — 


EGO 


What is it? 




Oh — I feel it myself — 




the scoundrels — what are they doing — 




the minx — what is she doing — 




something terrible is happening! 


THE TRIO — 


Master — ^what is it? 




Sounds of scuffling without. 


LAZY — 


The twins are fighting — 


FASTIDIOUS — 


She must have banished them — 


BELLY — 


My coin on Improper — 


LAZY — 


Gentle Proper — save him, Master! 


FASTIDIOUS — 


Give them lead! 


EGO 


Drawing his pistol — Give them death! 



waving his arms. 



Proper bursts into the inn, breathless. 



[49] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



PROPER — Master, Master — save her, Master! 

Improper strides in pompously dragging 
the lady by her long golden hair. 

THE COMPANY — Ah! 



EGO 



LADY — 



EGO 



LADY — 

EGO 

LADY 

EGO 



LADY 



Take your hand from those tresses! 

Improper sees the pistol and obeys. 

She is dainty, demure — looks about 
wildly — 

Masters! 

She spies Ego — 

Master — save me! 

Hiding the pistol and examining Lady — 

An engaging body and personality! 

You seem to know me. Madam? 

Spare me those violators! 

Plural — is there more than one ? 

Pointing at Proper — ^That one, too! 

Arise, Madam — 

He assists her gallantly. 

Proper assaulted you, too? 

Almost simpering — 

He didn't assault me — 

but — he courted me — 

with sighings — and a poem — 

and prostration of his body — 

and something about, *this is my last 
protestation* — 

and then that other one — piqued — 

shouting, 'let me show her my protesta- 
tion' — 

kicked Proper — knocked him down — 
and seized me! 



[so 



At The 


Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 




If it hadn't been for the one, 




the other would have behaved! 


IMPROPER — 


Don't blame it on that milksop, hussy — 




I need no booby to teach me a-court- 




ing — 




you and your protestation — ^you're to 




blame — 




I warned you Fd do it — cave-fashion! 


LADY — 


Master! 


EGO — 


Silence, cur! 




What is it, Madam? 




Come and sit down — repose your fair 




being! 


FASTIDIOUS — 


Being opposes non-being! 


LADY — 


Who are you ? 


FASTIDIOUS — 


At your service. Madam — 


BELLY — 


And I'm Belly — can you cook, sweet 




mam? 


EGO — 


Silence, swine! 




He leads Lady to one of the tables, onto 


which he raises i 


her, with a chair for footstool. 


THE COMPANY - 


-Ah! 




They crowd forward. 


EGO — 


Room, slaves! 




Your shoe is unbuckled! 




He stoops. 


LADY — 


You are a gentleman, sir. What is your 




name ? 


EGO — 


You have named me. Madam. 


LADY — 


Master — yes — but what your Christian ? 


EGO — 


Fasten your bodice. Love. 


LADY 


How do you know my name ? 




[SI] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 


EGO — 


I know everything. 


LADY 


A gentleman — and a seer — what else, 


EGO 


sir? 
A lover! 


LADY 


A lover? 


EGO 


Since you came! 


LADY 


How exhilarating — 




who are you ? — 




what is your name ? 


EGO — 


Imprison your ringlets again! 


FASTIDIOUS — 




Banality — 


LAZY — 




He's stealing my lines — 


PROPER — 


'Sotto voce' 


My inspiration — 


improper — 




My property — 


BELLY — 




Can she really cook? 


EGO — 


Silence, ye! 


LADY — 


Who are they — what place is this ? 


EGO — 


ril give them introduction, Wife! 


LADY — 


Wife? 


THE COMPANY — 


Wife? 


EGO — 


Heart of my bosom — 


LADY — 


Pretty, pretty — 


EGO — 


Come forward. Improper — kiss Milady's 




foot! 




Ego's hand steals to his hip-pocket. 


Improper obeys. 




LADY — 


{superciliously) — 




Haven't I met you before, sir? 


IMPROPER — 


You have — and you're meeting me now 




— in him! 


LADY — 


Eh? 


EGO — 


Come forward. Proper — 




[f 


2] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



turn. 

LADY 

PROPER — 
LADY — 
EGO — 

LAZY — 
LADY — 
EGO — 

FASTIDIOUS — 



LADY — 



EGO 



Proper and the rest imitate Improper in 

Sun of my world — 

this one is Proper yclept — 

Pretty, pretty — 

haven't I met you before, Sir Proper? 

You have — and you're meeting me now 

— in him! 
How mysterious — he speaks like the 

other! 
Come forward, Lazy — 
this crooked creature's a dreamer — 
poem of my life ! 
And my heart lifts and falls to your sun 

and moon! 
How intriguing — haven't I heard that 

before ? 
Imagining, my dear — 
let me show you another — 
grave Fastidious — thought of my 

thought ! 
It is not meet for thought to stoop to 

matter, 
but when thought has matter in its 

thought, 
thought raises matter on high — and 

stoops to it! 
I'm spinning, twirling, whirring — 
are you as wise as this one, Master? 
Vanish, Fastidious! 
Belly, crawl hither — 
earth of my wormhood — 

[S3] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



LADY — 
BELLY 



LADY 

BELLY — 



What wa5rward mother christened you? 
My insides are tickhng me — 
they say unto thee — 
Unto me ? 

There's a stench of roast goose in the 
air — 





it offends my intelHgence — 




perchance can you bake me a pheasant, 




sweet mam? 


LADY — 


Pheasant — ^why yes — 




I have pheasants, peacocks and swans 




on my estate! 


BELLY 


Peacocks and swans! 


LADY 


And quail which would itch well 




with plums, raisins, rice, cherries and 




sauce of elderberry! 


BELLY — 


Almighty gods — 




you've sent me Ambrosia herself! 


EGO — 


A vaunt, swine! 


LADY — 


Who else now. Master? 


EGO — 


There remains only myself — 




regent of my serfdom! 




My name is Ego. 


LADY — 


And who are you ? 


EGO — 


I was I — now I am you! 


LADY 


What does that mean? 




The henchmen mutter their further dis- 


approbation. 




FASTIDIOUS — 


Renegade! 


EGO 


I am the apex of selfhood. 



of which these slaves are the radii, 
and you the circumference! 

[S4] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



FASTIDIOUS 
LADY — 
EGO — 



LAZY — 
IMPROPER 
EGO — 



PROPER - 
LADY — 
EGO 



LADY 

EGO — 



LAZY 

PROPER — 

IMPROPER - 
EGO — 
LADY — 
BELLY — 
EGO — 

FASTIDIOUS 

EGO 

LADY 

FASTIDIOUS 



Whom does he call slave ? 

Only the circumference? 

You are the center of gravity 

toward which your slave is tumbling, 

attracted — impelled — by your omnipo- 
tence! 

He'll need our aid presently! 

Thieves bring themselves to the noose! 

I was I, and you were you — 

and I would — I would that — 

The I and the you are one! 

Why do you let them speak? 

Silence, trespassers! 

That the I and the you were we — pre- 
cisely! 

{coquettishly) — What does that mean ? 

It means, so to speak, that my desire — 

that the thought of my heart — and the 
heart of my thought — 

Bolder, Master! 

That he — not his thought and his 
heart — 

That he wants you! 

Not that I want you — 

You don't? 

Belch louder. Slave! 

But that I want that you shall — 

The henchmen begin pressing forward. 

Vociferously, Babbler! 

That you shall want me! 

Is that all? How very amusing! 

Sex tweedledum! 

[551 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



LADY 



THE TWINS — 

PROPER 

IMPROPER 

LADY 



EGO 



ically. 

LADY- 



Oh — I want to return — 

to the prettier courtship — of Proper and 

Improper! 
Madam! 

I want me for yourself — 
I want you for myself — 
Though the duo's familiar, it's dulcet — 
faster, gentlemen! 
What ho, what ho! 
I know a little song that can sing to high 

C— 
your bridal song. Woman! 
He produces the pistol. Lady eyes it com- 



What a dainty instrument! It can 
twitter ? 
EGO — It'll make you twitter — down. Madam! 

LADY — Hand it to me! 

EGO — Down on your knees! 

LADY — Will you hand it to me on your knees ? 

Ego obeys. The henchmen roll him aside. 
Lady holds the pistol over her head, finger on trigger. They 
avert their heads. There is only the click of the hammer. 

LADY Pooh! 

THE COMPANY — Bah! 
LAZY — Turncoat! 

IMPROPER — Impostor! 
FASTIDIOUS — Apostate! 

Ego slinks to the background. 
LADY — Improper! 

IMPROPER — Lady? 



[S6] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



LADY — My brazen pet — 

take this dreadful thing outdoors — 

steal craftily through the night to my 
estate — 

patter ever so softly to my garden — 
IMPROPER — Yes, yes! 
LADY — And, dead or alive — bring Belly his 

pheasant! 
IMPROPER — Madam! 
LADY — Obey! 

He obeys — after ironically making the 
sign to Ego! Lady looks at the company. They stand for 
a moment of silent awe — then attack Ego in derisive cres- 
cendo. 
FASTIDIOUS — Fancy the I being touched by the 

thought of a you! 
LAZY — To what are we canonized ? 

QUARTETTE — The Self! 

FASTIDIOUS — In consequence of this disrupting phe- 
nomenon — 
PROPER — Our law is in need of some revision — 

LADY — What law ? 

LAZY — His law! 

FASTIDIOUS — Not of revision — 
PROPER — Of elongation! 

FASTIDIOUS — Each one of us is an I-am-I! 
LADY — That phrase again — what does it mean ? 

FASTIDIOUS — That you are an I-am-I! 
PROPER — You are the I-am-I ! 

LADY — Ego, what do they mean? 

EGO — {resignedly) — They mean sedition, mam 

— my day is past. 

[57] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



Her I-am-I shall become an I-am-us — 

Or you return empty-handed! 

Who return? 

Improper and I. 

I begin to understand — tell me some 

more! 
Peace, Lady! 
Peace, Sir! 
Come close, children, so we do not offend 

him. 
They do so. In pantomime turn, they 
rapidly gesticulate, and whisper in her ears. Lady nodding 

with interrupting chuckles of ''Ego — 



FASTIDIOUS 

PROPER 

LADY 

PROPER 

LADY 

EGO 

LADY 



in a tempo of 

Egor 

EGO 

LADY 

LADY 

FASTIDIOUS — 

LADY 

QUARTETTE — 



BELLY 



FASTIDIOUS 



LAZY 



PROPER 



QUARTETTE — 



Madam! 

Silence, you! 

Continued whispering . 

And what is the song? 

It requires some slight amendment. 

Sing it — sing it for me! 

{with Lazy beating time) — 

Mistress Ego, Mistress Ego, 

we are you, and you are we-oh! 

I am the body which — needeth thy 

nourishment — 
I the cool brain which — counseleth thy 

flourishment — 
I the high bird which — soareth to thy 

soul — 
I — we the harriers who bring thee thy 

dole — 
Sovereign Ego, Sovereign Ego, 

[58] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



LADY 



EGO — 
LADY 



EGO 

LADY 

EGO 

PROPER 

LADY 



quartette nudge 

FASTIDIOUS — 



LADY — 



FASTIDIOUS — 



THE OTHERS 
EGO — 

LADY 

LAZY 



we are you, and you are we-oh! 

{clapping her hands) — 

And Ego — ^you dedicate this to me ? 

{sullenly) — ^This and all else. 

{looking about innocently) — What else 

have you for me? 
Oh — what sign is that yonder? 
The symbol of this hallowed place! 
I don't like it — please take it down! 
Sacrilege — Madam — I beg of you — 
I'll take it down in a tumult! 
Thank you — Ego will take it down. 
It is my wish — and his privilege. 
Ego goes slowly behind the bar. The 
one another. The symbol is removed. 

This is truly the most dauntless spirit 

Man ever encountered! 
Madam, my intellect bends homage to 

yours! 
Fastidious, I suspect you're the man of 

sentiment here — 
I could unravel hairs with you in eternal 

gusto! 
What sign would you say belongs up 

yonder ? 
Your question lures an immediate re- 
tort — 
At The Sign Of The Heart And Soul! 
- Fastidious! 
Scandalous! 

Lazy, did you devise that handicraft ? 
Mine was the disgrace, high liege — 

[591 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



LADY — 
EGO — 
LADY — 

back a slow one 

BELLY 

THE OTHERS — 
LADY — 



See that you devise another at once! 

Wife! 

Silence, Husband! 

She blows him a quick kiss. He blows 
and smiles. 

Pere Ego succumbs to Mere Ego! 

Hail, Mother Ego! 

Belly, for your benign inspiration — 

your shall have a laurel payment — 

help me down, sirs! 

They come forward with one will. Clamor- 
ing, they help her down from her throne. 
LADY — Husband, come hither! 

EGO — Spouse ? 

LADY — You have introduced me to these heroic 

spirits — 

now introduce me to the spirit which 
gives them breath — 

lead me to the kitchen! 

Ego gallantly raises his hand on high. 
She takes it deftly. They proceed to the kitchen. 
QUARTETTE — Bravo, Mother Ego! 

They disappear. Improper comes run- 
ning in, breathless, waving a pheasant — or is it a chicken ? — 
over his head. 

FASTIDIOUS — Hail, Gamester! 
BELLY — Ambrosia, Ambrosia — the pheasant has 

come! 
LADY — {off-stage) — Improper! 

IMPROPER — Madam? 
LADY — Have you got it ? 

IMPROPER — Dead, Madam! 

[60] 



At The Sign Of The Thumb And Nose 



LADY 



Bring it here at once! 

Tossing the pistol on the har. Improper 
rushes off. Noisily, the others have taken possession of the 
bar. Mugs and glasses spill over. They are raised on high. 



LAZY — 
FASTIDIOUS — 
QUARTETTE — 

BELLY — 

EGO — 

LADY — 
EGO — 



A toast, Fastidious! 

Empress Ego! 

Empress Ego! 

Improper returns in time for his mug. 

Ambrosia! Master! 

Save the goose for to-morrow ? 

Yes, Glutton! 

The quintette drink. 

Dear — will you lend me your apron ? 

It is yours — to keep — precious Love! 

His quiet laugh spreads loud contagion. 



SLOW CURTAIN. 



[6i 



UNEASY STREET 



A Folk Play 



To Alfred Stieglitz and 2gi 



UNEASY STREET 

A Folk Play in Two Scenes 

Persons, in the order of their first appearance: 
I. B. wouNDY, the undertaker 

EDWARD LEMON, the flotist 

MR. JOUNCE, the butcher 
MR. SPICK, the fish-man 
MRS. scRUBB, the lauudtess 
MRS. SMOCK, the seamstress 
MR. RYAN, the poHceman 
MR. RANSEED, the gtocer 



Scene I. Shops along Varick Street, Greenwich 
Village, New York City. Six o'clock of a spring evening. 

Scene II. Mr. Woundy's sitting room, three hours 
later. 

(The "ou" in "Woundy" is pronounced as in "sound.") 



Uneasy Street 



SCENE I: A curtain so painted as to 
suggest a row of small shop windows. The two most prom- 
inent are adjacent and advertise I . B. Woundy, the under- 
taker , and Edward Lemon, the florist. In Mr. Woundy' s 
window there is an ominous black coffin, and on the glass 
the simple inscription: I. B. WOUNDY, FUNERAL 
DECORATOR. Mr. Lemon s window displays a riot of 
spring flowers of every denomination; the inscription is 
florid: EDWARD LEMON, HORTICULTURIST, OR- 
DERS TAKEN FOR WEDDINGS, CHURCH SO- 
CIABLES, CHRISTENINGS, FUNERALS, ETC. In 
both stores, a door or swinging flap. 

Mr. Woundy, a tiny, fleshless, shrewd- 
skulled hulk of sixty-five, comes out with his evening chair 
and clay pipe black with age, quickly sits down, nervously 
lights the pipe, crosses his legs and begins swinging his foot. 
A frown and short irregular puffs betray the irascibility of 
his present mood. 

Mr. Lemon, slow, stout, forty-five, a species 
of cheerful geranium, appears with his evening chair and 
new corn cob. Mr. Woundy ignores Mr. Lemon as the 
latter carefully deposits his chair fairly close, smiles affably, 
slowly lights his pipe and puffs deliberately . 
MR. LEMON — {genial tenor) . Well, and how's business, 

Neighbor Woundy? 
MR. WOUNDY — {raucous bass). Still slow, Lemon. 
MR. LEMON — Why, I thought that Mrs. Smock — 
MR. WOUNDY — No, Mrs. Smock didn't croak. That 

fool, Dr. Small, managed to pull 

her through. 
MR. LEMON — Hm! That's rather bad for you. 

[67] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. wouNDY — It's bad for you too, Lemon. She's 

got heaps of generous relations. 
MR. LEMON — Still, I can't complain. 

MR. WOUNDY — How so.? 

MR. LEMON — There's been four christenings lately. 

Little Edward Peacock, the Saddler 

twins and — 

MR. WOUNDY — Children, thank God, keep on coming. 

MR. LEMON — And then there's them two weddings on 

Perry Street — 
MR. WOUNDY — Of course, weddings go right on. 
MR. LEMON — And the church sociable at St. John's 

and the Greenwich fair and — 
MR. WOUNDY — Of course, of course! 
MR. LEMON — Flowers, Mr. Woundy, is always in 
demand. People don't have to die. 
The flower trade takes care of itself. 
MR. WOUNDY — Flowers in demand ? Flowers be damned! 
Death's the only thing in demand. 
Bodies, dead things, everything. Don't 
flowers die ? Your little pinks and your 
little pansies and your little roses and 
aU that tomfoolery? Everything dies, 
everybody. They've got to die — 
MR. LEMON — But flowers symbolize life and the return 

thereof. 
MR. WOUNDY — What do you mean.? Don't Hfe die.? 
And your return thereof.? What's that 
for except to die .? 
MR. LEMON — That's ttue enough. 
MR. WOUNDY — Of course, it's true. It's the only truth. 
Nations die, ages die, gods die. Who 

[68] 



Uneasy Street 



said it wasn't true ? {Suddenly pointing 
with his pipe) — Look at that old rascal 
crawling along over there! What good 
will his silly cane do him to-morrow? 
Look at him look over here! And look 
at him look away! He saw me. He 
knows. Huh! Doctors or no doctors, 
they've all got to come. He's afraid, 
the old scoundrel. 

MR. LEMON — Yes, he's afraid. 

MR. wouNDY — Afraid.? And so are you. So is every- 
body. Greater than death is the fear of 
death. You all know that. What 
do they do, men, women, children, 
doctors, priests and all.? You've seen 
them. Do they go by here.? {Mr. 
Lemon shakes his head,) Every blessed 
one sneaks over there and goes on his 
petty way, on his petty errand, on his 
petty something or other. You know 
why. {Mr. Lemon nods affably.) The 
measly snivelling cowards — Spick, the 
fishman, whose aunt I buried. Jounce, 
fat, blustering Jounce, whose wife, 
father and grandfather came to me, 
Mrs. Scrubb, whose dainty husband and 
three pimply children — she killed them 
maybe, but I buried them. And didn't 
I bury Uncle, Mother and Father Ran- 
seed .? Why, the only one who goes by 
here is Officer Pat Ryan, pride of the 
street, he and his twiddling club, 'cause 

[69] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



he saved a drowning child, that I buried 
despite him the week after. And he — 
he only goes by at night to see that 
our doors are locked. I know them. 
They've been coming to me for forty 
years. And they used to come to my 
father, sir. The flower trade! {A mo- 
ment's silence,) Every one of them gets 
his cheap box to lie in, his imitation 
ebony or mahogany, if he didn't slave 
and save, and his genuine, if he did. 
Every one of them gets his stupid stone, 
monument or angel's wings, and his 
hearse and two, four, ten, twenty or a 
hundred carriages. Every one of the 
self-respecting lot — don't I know them.? 
— ^wouldn't they Hke to get up in their 
box just to pipe: Look at my sixty-six 
carriages.? {Mr. Lemon smiles and nods.) 
But with all their self-respect, with all 
their sweat and saving of pennies, with 
all their wives and children and grand- 
children, and their dreams — ^what is it 
lies so dark at the bottom of their 
hearts, what is it makes them bounce 
o' bed at night, what is it makes them 
crawl along over there.? It's the inno- 
cent black box behind me there! {Mr. 
Woundy stares at his rival with malignant 
joy and at last begins smoking comfort- 
ably.) 
MR. LEMON — Yes, they're all afraid, sir. 



70 



Uneasy Street 



MR. WOUNDY 
MR. LEMON - 
MR. WOUNDY 



MR. LEMON 



MR. LEMON — 



Afraid? And so are you, Lemon. 

Well, I shouldn't quite say — 

You shouldn't quite say ? That you aint 

afraid.? That you wont have to 

come .f* 
{between contented puffs) — I shouldn't 

quite say that I — would be exactly 

— afraid. 
MR. WOUNDY — Huh! And who are you, Mr. Edward 
Lemon, that you wouldn't be afraid.? 
Who are you that the sight of that 
little black thing {jerking his pipe over 
his shoulder) don't scare the very bowels 
out of you .? 

{turning with exasperating indifference and 
eyeing the familiar object as though he 
saw it for the first time) — Me afraid.? 
Me scared of a mere black box ? Why, 
I could go to sleep in a box like that. 
Go to sleep in a coffin? What — who 
ever — ^you? You go to sleep in a 
coffin ? 

Yes, me to go sleep in a coffin. 
I challenge you to it! I challenge you, 
sir! Who ever heard — you're crazy — 
you're bluffing. Ha, that's it. I'll call 
your bluff, you white lily. You can't 
bluff old man Woundy. You sleep in a 
coffin ! I challenge you . If I can't bury 
any more dead men I'll bury a live one. 
Come on! 
But not just now, Mr. Woundy. 

[71] 



MR. WOUNDY 



MR. LEMON — 
MR. WOUNDY 



MR. LEMON 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. wouNDY — Ha, ha, I thought so! Sleep in a coffin 
indeed! Here's where I'll make a show 
of you in front of your friends — the 
crawling worms — they've loved you all 
these years — they've loved a fraud — 
you and your flowers and flower trade. 
You're a fraud. That's you, Lemon. 
Not just now! 

MR. LEMON — No, not just now. It's too early — 

MR. wouNDY — To be shoveled away.? 

MR. LEMON — No, its too early in the evening. I 
aint sleepy yet. I couldn't go ofi^ now. 
Nobody ever went to sleep when he 
wasn't sleepy. 

MR. WOUNDY — Then you can when you are.f* 

MR. LEMON — Yes. 

MR. WOUNDY — In a coffin.? 

MR. LEMON — Yes. 

MR. WOUNDY — This very night .? 

MR. LEMON — This very night. 

MR. WOUNDY — I'll bet you you can't. 

MR. LEMON — What'll you bet? 

MR. WOUNDY — I'll — I'll bet you a glass of beer at 

O'Sullivan's. 

MR. LEMON — Done! 

MR. WOUNDY — That you can't go to sleep in a coffin. 

MR. LEMON — Done! 

MR. WOUNDY — On my premises! 

MR. LEMON — Inside of five minutes! 

MR. WOUNDY — I'll give you ten! 

MR. LEMON — No, five! 

MR. WOUNDY — Done! 



[72 



Uneasy Street 



MR. LEMON — Done! 

A moment of awful silence. 

MR. wouNDY — Hold on, Lemon! There's a hole some- 
where. We'll have to have wit- 
nesses. 

MR. LEMON — We will. 

MR. WOUNDY — All your friends — ^Jounce and Spick and 

Mrs. Scrubb and — 
MR. LEMON — Your enemies — Mrs. Smock and Ryan 

and — 
MR. WOUNDY — Every skulking one of them! 
MR. LEMON — Who'll be referee .? 
MR. WOUNDY — Ryan's off beat Thursdays. 
MR. LEMON — Ryan'll do. 
MR. WOUNDY — Ho, ho, Lemon! But will they come? 

Have you thought of that, eh.? 

On wy premises ! Jounce and Spick 

and the rest — in my little room — 

who, sir, who's going to make them 

come t 
MR. LEMON — Don't mind a little scare hke your 

premises, Mr. Woundy, I will. 

MR. WOUNDY — You? 

MR. LEMON — Yes, me. 

MR. WOUNDY — You'll havc to chain 'em and gag 'em 

and bind 'em and drag 'em, carcass 

and soul. 

MR. LEMON — No, I WOu't. 

MR. WOUNDY — Yes, you will. 

MR. LEMON — No, I WOn't. 

MR. WOUNDY — It's a go then ? 

MR. LEMON — It's a gO. 

[73] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. wouNDY — It's War, is it ? 
MR. LEMON — War, if you will. 
MR. WOUNDY — Shake? 
MR. LEMON — Shake. 

They shake hands. 
MR. WOUNDY — {with mock generosity) — Lemon! You're 
the first man to shake hands with 
me in years. 
MR. LEMON — Thank you, sir. 

The undertaker puts away his clay, folds 
his arms and challenges the sky with a smirk of pity. The 
florist calmly goes on puffing his cob. The lights go out for 
an instant, and the curtain rises on Scene II. 

SCENE II: Three hours later. Mr. 
Woundy's sitting room. Small and unattractive; eight 
crippled heterogeneous chairs, shelves littered with dust- 
laden hooks, a small table, a colorless moth-eaten rug, odds 
and ends on a mantelpiece, and on the walls, pictures of 
Woundys who have gone before. The chairs are drawn in 
front of the left wall in three rows in the shape of a minia- 
ture amphitheater {three, three and two); the table and 
shelves stand to the right of a door, down stage, left, leading 
to the hall and street. Right center, almost under a gas jet, 
and supported by the customary pedestal, a really beautiful 
and generous sized ebony coffin. In front of it, an arm 
chair. Another door, left, beyond the chairs, leads into 
the bed-room. 

It is the night of Mr. Woundy's life. He 
is putting quick finishing touches about the room: a funeral 
wreath here, another there, and finally one on the coffin 
itself. Now and then he rubs his hands almost gleefully; 
now and then he stops and listens. 

[74] 



Uneasy Street 



Cautious shuffling followed by a timid 
knock at the hall door. Mr. Woundy hurries over and 
opens it. 

MR. WOUNDY — Good evening, good evening, good eve- 
ning — step right in, all of you — a de- 
lightful surprise — come in, come in — 
Jounce, won't you lead the way? My, 
what a lot of you! 

A singular little procession., led by Mr. 
Jounce, ordinarily a formidable man, sidles rather than 
files into the room: Mr. Spick, tall and thin, and Mrs. 
Scrubb, who waddles. They are middle-aged folk, dressed 
in their Sunday clothes. Mr. Jounce tries to give his lead- 
ership an air. 

MR. WOUNDY — Ah, Mrs. Scrubb — good evening, Mrs. 
Scrubb — and you. Spick. How are 
you, mam.? 
MRS. SCRUBB — All them Steps, sit — all them steps. 
MR. WOUNDY — The golden stairs to heaven, eh.? Take 
off your things and rest yourself. {Mr. 
Jounce helps her.) Aint Jounce the 
gentleman.? If Mrs. Jounce was alive 
to see that now! But what's become of 
Spick.? 

Mr. Spick, in his efori to be of assistance, 
stumbles over Mrs. Scrubb and spies the coffin. 
MR. SPICK — Good Lord! 

The others see the coffin and quickly oc- 
cupy themselves. 

MR. WOUNDY — {has caught sight of somebody in the hall, 
afraid to enter) — Why, there's still an- 
other of you, and a lady, too. Good 

[75] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



evening, mam, come in, come in! {Dis- 
mayed) — Well, of all people, if it aint 
Mrs. Smock! {Recovering himself) — 
Come in, Mrs. Smock. So glad to see 
you, so glad to hear of your getting 
well. This is indeed a pleasant surprise. 
A sickly nervous woman, gentle of mien, 

fairly creeps into the room. Mr. Spick goes to her assistance. 

MR. wouNDY — {as his guests jostle one another and stare 
in every direction but the coffin)-Now then! 
Make yourselves as comfortable as you 
can. Just as you would at a play. 
Everybody gets an orchestra seat. 
Pursued rather than followed by his party y 

Mr. Jounce starts for the chairs in the rear. 

MR. wouNDY — Ladies first, ladies first! 

Mrs. Scrubb and Mrs. Smock , aided 

more by Mr. Woundy than Mr. Jounce, settle down. The 

butcher hastily squeezes himself between them. Mr. Spick 

fumbles with the second row chairs. The women titter. 

MR. WOUNDY — Fine, a beautiful arrangement! Like a 
bouquet of Lemon's best flowers. 
And Jounce, ha! What would you 
call Jounce.? 
He's the thorn among the roses, sir. 
And Spick — poor lone Spick — ^what are 

you up to.? 
{mournfully holding a chair) — I — Fm — 
You look like a fish lost at sea. 
Sit down, sir, sit down. 
Mr. Spick sits down abruptly and shoves 

his chair close to the others. 



MRS 


. SMOCK — 


MR. 


WOUNDY — 


MR. 


SPICK — 


MR. 


JOUNCE — 


MR. 


WOUNDY — 



[76 



Uneasy Street 



MR. WOUNDY 



MR. SPICK — 
MR. WOUNDY 



MR. JOUNCE - 
MR. WOUNDY 



MRS. SCRUBB 
MR. WOUNDY 



the hall door- 
general relief, 
the door. 

MR. WOUNDY 



— Too bad, but don't you mind. That 
little box aint for you though you're 
nearest to it. It's for our friend, Lemon. 
Has he come.? 

— Not yet, but he'll be along if his feet 

aint grown cold. 
The guests exchange glances. 
How about the rest of you ? Ryan and 

Ranseed and — 

— They're coming in another party. 

— Fine, a good idea, this coming in crowds! 
There's no telling what'U happen to a 
man along Varick Street. It was only 
the other night I was thinking when I 
closed up shop — the street was so dark, 
you know: There ought to be more lamps 
hereabouts. Some day a man'lljget 
murdered and it wont be his fault. 
There, there! Cheerful talk, good friends, 
cheerful talk is what we want on a night 
like this, eh, Mrs. Scrubb.? 

— Indeed, your honor, indeed. 

— Cheerful talk — you're right, mam. 
That's what life was made for. 
Further shuffling, and another knock at 

—this time an ordinary knock. Immediate 
Mr. Woundy goes reluctantly and opens 

— Good evening, good evening-step right 
in — ah, Mr. Ryan, our referee — so glad 
to see the pride of the force, sir! 

Mr. Ryan enters. He is in uniform. 



[77 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



His is the impersonal aloofness oj the officer of the law; 

he carries his part with professional dignity. He is followed 

by Mr. Ranseed, who is over corpulent. 

MR. RYAN — How are you, sir? 

MR. wouNDY — How are you, Mr. Ryan? And Ran- 
seed ! Well , the pride of all grocers . 
How do you do, Ranseed .? 

MR. RANSEED — Evening, sir — evening. 

MR. wouNDY — Hm! You want to be taking better 
care of yourself. Remember your 
father that went off with the 
asthma.? Just a little pleasantry, 
just a little fun! 
Mumbling, Mr . Ranseed joins Mr. Ryan. 

They approach the chairs. The firstcomers rise, but each 

one, especially Mr. Jounce, is careful to keep his place. 

General greetings. 

MR. WOUNDY — And are there any more coming .? 

MR. RYAN — We're all here now. 

MR. WOUNDY — Good! Now wont you sit down, Ran- 
seed } 

MR. RANSEED — {spying the coffin, with droll apprecia- 
tion) — We should have come sooner. 

MR. WOUNDY — Not at all, sir! You'll be just as easy 
out front, and able to see every- 
thing better. 
Mr. Ranseed sits down next to Mr. Spick; 

they pull their chairs close together. Mr. Ryan takes a 

chair in the front row. Mr. Woundy goes into the bed room 

with the two extra chairs. 

MR. SPICK — Where's Lemon.? 

MRS. scRUBB — Yes, where's that tuHp.? 

[78] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. RYAN 



MR. JOUNCE - 

MR. RYAN 

MR. SPICK 

MR. RYAN — 

MRS. SMOCK - 
MR. RYAN — 



THE COMPANY 
MR. RYAN — 



THE COMPANY 
MR. SPICK — 



MR. RYAN — 

MRS. SMOCK — 
MR. RANSEED — 
MR. SPICK — 
MR. JOUNCE — 
THE WOMEN — 
MR. JOUNCE — 
MR. RANSEED — 



Leave off fuming and fretting. Lemon's 

after taking a few beers down at 

O'Sullivan's. 
Do you think it'll help ? 
How? 

Will it help his going to sleep ? 
Beer.? Beer would make the angels 

sleep. 
Then you think — 

I think nothing. I'm only referee. 
That's all I'm here for. If Lemon goes 
to sleep, he wins; if he don't, he loses. 
That's all. There is those, of course, 
who wouldn't sleep on a whole keg of 
beer — 
Ah! 
And Lemon's got a mighty paunch. 

It'd take a lot to fill it and then go 

to his head. 
Ah! 
But do you mean to say Lemon would 

so much as dare get into — into that 

thing? 
I can't say. It's not up to me. I'm 

referee. 
Look at it over there waiting for him. 
With its mouth wide open. 
It could swallow a whale. 
Ain't it real though? 
Ugh! 

Looks as though it was taking one of us. 
It's big enough to. 

[79] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SMOCK - 
MRS. SCRUBB 
MR. SPICK — 
MR. RYAN 

MR. WOUNDY 



MR. JOUNCE - 
MRS. SCRUBB 
MR. WOUNDY 



MR. JOUNCE 



Look at the wreath stuck to its side. 
And them wreaths on the walls. 
Aint it ghost-like.? It makes me creep. 
Sh! He's coming back. 
Mr. Woundy returns, 
{rubbing his hands) — Did I hear some- 
body remark on a wreath.? Who 
was it? 
Mother Scrubb! 

Go on, you pork-packer. It was — 
Peace, peace, good friends. It's im- 
material who. But which wreath — ^which 
wreath did you mean ? This one ? Maybe 
this one .? Ah, friends, then you must have 
meant this one! {He approaches the 
coffin and strokes the wreath affectionately) 
And I don't blame you. It's the finest 
in my whole establishment. It'd do 
honor to the mayor himself. I'll tell 
you how it happened: Says I to myself: 
on the one hand, here's our much loved 
neighbor, Mr. Edward Lemon. Giving 
him all his deserts, he*s a brave man, a 
worthy citizen, fit for a lion keeper more 
than a tamer of flowers. He's chal- 
lenged you, Woundy, actually chal- 
lenged you — in itself a wonderful thing 
— to sleep, actually to go to sleep in a 
coffin — in this coffin maybe. {Patting 
it tenderly) — Good. We won't argue the 
matter. It don't need arguing. 
He's a wonderful brave man, indeed. 



[80 



Uneasy Street 



MRS. scRUBB — To think of his daring to — 

MRS. SMOCK — Yes, in that — 

MR. wouNDY — On the other hand, says I: Trade — trade 
has been bad lately, very bad. For 
weeks now, nobody in the village has 
died; nobody's been buried, nobody's 
been near your little shop, Woundy — 
well, since Lemuel Zink went to Ever- 
green Cemetery. Mrs. Smock — beg 
pardon, mam, I mean no offense. I've 
only the best of wishes for you. But 
I've got to tell you the whole of my 
thoughts, eh? 
Yes sir! 

Thank you, mam. Now Mrs. Smock, 
thanks to the blessed skill of Dr. Small 
and the aid of the Almighty, got past her 
pneumonia. Eh, Mrs. Smock.? 
Yes indeed, sir. Least I hope so. 
You understand, mam — these are only 

my thoughts. 
Yes, yes, Mr. Woundy. 
Says I to myself: Trade is bad. Mrs. 
Smock has escaped, so what's to happen 
now.? There's nobody sick in the street, 
not so sick that they're about to croak. 
And yet, there's dead things all around 
you — but dead people. 

MR. JOUNCE — What are you at, man.? 

MR. WOUNDY — You ought to get me. Jounce. You're a 
butcher. Says I: there's Jounce; aint 
he got dead things around him, yet he 



MRS. SMOCK - 
MR. WOUNDY 



MRS. SMOCK - 
MR. WOUNDY 



MRS. SMOCK - 
MR. WOUNDY 



8i 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. SPICK — 
MR. WOUNDY 
MR. SPICK — 
MR. WOUNDY 



don't bury them. And there's Spick, 
the fish-man; he's got dead things all 
around him, but he don't bury them. 
And there's Ranseed, the grocer; he's 
got dead things, and he don't bury them. 
Everything is dead, everything is dying 
— but the people of Varick Street! {He 
lowers his voice to an ominous dirge. His 
auditors are huddling together. Only Mr. 
Ryan retains his non-committal com- 
posure.) And I says to myself: Well, 
Woundy, if you can't bury any more 
dead men you'll have to — who knows ? — 
maybe you'll have to bury a live one! 
My friends, you can never be sure about 
life and death. The queerest things will 
happen. So there's only one thing to 
do: it's to be prepared. That's why you 
see them wreaths on the walls. {Pat- 
ting the coffin wreath) — ^And that's why 
this little beauty is here. 
What do you mean ? 
I mean that I know and you don't. 
That I don't know.? 

Not you alone. Spick, but all of you. If 
you knew, wouldn't you have brought 
flowers — pansies and roses and lilies and 
wreaths and horsehoes and angels' wings 
and such like .? Wouldn't you have pre- 
pared.? You would have bought out 
Lemon's whole store. 



82 



J 



Uneasy Street 



MR. RANSEED — But — but what is it — ^what is it you 
know ? 

MR. wouNDY — Ha, Ranseed! That we'll find out in 
another breath. Says I to myself: On 
the one hand, there's Mr. Lemon, our 
friend and neighbor. He's a brave man. 
He's going to step right into this little 
box here. He's going to try and go to 
sleep. He's going to make a fool of old 
man Woundy. Good! Maybe he will. 
I hope he does. But on the other hand: 
suppose Mr. Lemon should go to sleep, 
fooling Mr. Woundy and then — ^you 
never can know about life and death — 
and trade so bad — the queerest things 
will happen — suppose Lemon don't wake 
up again 1 What then .? Don't be fright- 
ened, friends. There ain't nothing to be 
afraid of.? Don't we all go the way of a 
box like this \ Didn't your dear husband 
and children go this way, Mrs. Scrubb, 
didn't your aunt. Spick, and your wife, 
father and grandfather. Jounce, and your 
uncle, mother and father, Ranseed.? All 
our mothers and fathers and grand- 
mothers and grandfathers, kind friends.? 
Why should we be afraid.? 
Why shouldn't we go the way the loved 
ones went .? Look at them pictures on the 
wall! Every one a Woundy! That one 
there was my father. And he an under- 
taker! He went in a box like this, 

[83] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



carrying his trade with him. That one 
there was my grandfather, and he an 
undertaker. He went in a box Hke this. 
And I — the last of the Woundys — Fll 
go in a box like this ! Am I afraid .? Do 
I look afraid .? 
SEVERAL — No sir, no indeed, no — 

MR. wouNDY — And I don't think Lemon would be. 
'Twas only my thoughts, friends. My 
reason for the wreaths, for this little 
fellow here. If Lemon should go to 
sleep and not wake up, where would his 
flowers be.? Think of that, and you his 
neighbors all these years, you all loving 
him! No funeral — no funeral is com- 
plete without flowers! 
Blows on the hall door. Fright, disorder 

and a jumping up from chairs. 

MR. RYAN — {who has not lost his equanimity) — Come 
in whoever you are! 

The door is pushed open and somebody 
appears, his arms so burdened with flowers that his head is 
buried from view. The man comes up-stage with difficulty, 
and drops the flowers between Mr. Woundy and the com- 
pany. There stands Mr. Lemon, smiling, bowing, rubbing 
his hands. 
MR. LEMON — Good evening, good friends. 

A kaleidoscopic reaction on the part of the 
guests. With the exception of Mr. Ryan, they crowd for- 
ward to shake hands. 
MR. JOUNCE — Ladies first, ladies first! 

[84] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. SPICK — 



MRS. SCRUBB 
MR. LEMON — 



MR. SPICK — 
MR. RANSEED — 
MR. JOUNCE — 
MRS. SCRUBB — 



MR. LEMON — 

THE COMPANY - 
MR. JOUNCE — 
MR. LEMON — 



MRS. SMOCK 



MR. LEMON 



MR. WOUNDY 



You're a sight for the very dead, a 

flower garden itself. 
And you the rose of them all. 
{under the additional embarrassment of 

liquor, but with extreme unction) — 

Madam, you do me very great 

honor. 
You deserve it, sir. 
My own wife would love you for it. 
And mine if she was alive. 
If you was only a marrying man, and I 

hadn't buried my man only six 

months ago! 
Madam, have a heart for my feelings. 

You ofi^er me — an iris! 
Ah! 

And there's still another. Lemon. 
What's that.? Well, well, dear Mrs. 
Smock! You here.f* Who would 'a' 
thought it .f* {She takes his hand timidly.) 
I didn't think you'd come, mam.? 
I didn't know — I didn't know but I 
would — after what you told me — that I 
was well enough to come — and nothing — 
nothing to be really afraid of.? 
Why no — not at all — ^what makes you say 
that.? {He notices the company looking 
past him, at Mr. Woundy standing near 
the coffin in a mood of challenge and 
annoyance.) Ah, Mr. Woundy! How 
do you do, sir.? 
Good evening. Lemon. 

[8s] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. LEMON — 



MR. WOUNDY- 
MR. LEMON — 



MR. 
MR. 



WOUNDY — 
LEMON — 



Mr. Woundy takes Mr. Lemon s hand 
mechanically. An exchange of glances sobers the florist^ and 
he eyes the coffin. 

In real professional style, Mr. Woundy. 

Just like a real funeral, sir. 
It'll be your funeral. Lemon. 
Well, and a wreath, a funeral wreath. 
That was real thoughtful of you. {He 
handles it with critical playfulness.) It 
looks like an old one. It aint quite up- 
to-date, is it? 
It's good enough for you. 
You must forgive me, I've always an eye 
for trade. Them up there'll do, Mr. 
Woundy, but not this one, right on the 
coffin itself. {The guests approach as 
near as they dare.) 
What.? 

{going to his flowers with a business-like 
air) — Something told me Mr. Woundy 
was going to do things in style, so I says: 
Edward Lemon, it's best to be prepared. 
{Guests nudge one another.) I says: 
You're in the flower business, Mr. 
Woundy aint. It's possible our good 
neighbor wont be up-to-date when it 
comes to the decorations . So — I brought 
— this little fellow here. Aint he a 
beauty? {He holds up an ornate wreath 
across which runs the word^ L-E-M-0-N . 
Mr. Woundy is momentarily overcome. 
The guests applaud. Mr. Lemon returns 

[86] 



MR. WOUNDY - 
MR. LEMON — 



Uneasy Street 



MR. RYAN — 

MR. WOUNDY 

MR. RYAN 

Mr. Ryan takes 
the undertaker s. 

MR. LEMON — 
MR. JOUNCE — 

MR. LEMON — 



MRS. SCRUBS 



MR. LEMON 



THE COMPANY 

MR. LEMON — 

THE COMPANY 

MR. LEMON — 



to the coffin, but Mr. Woundy bars his 
way. The applause stops. Mr. Ryan 
steps between the rivals.) 
Mr. Woundy! Mr. Lemon's right. 
Mr. Ryan! 

Mr. Woundy! I'm referee here. 
Mr. Woundy moves aside with bad grace. 
Mr. Lemon s wreath and substitutes it for 

And now to the flowers! 

Yes, the flowers, Lemon. Why the 

flowers ? 
Is a funeral complete without flowers.? 
{Sensation.) Ah, friends! Did you 
think of flowers.? Did you, Mr. Spick.? 
Did you, Mr. Jounce ? And the ladies — 
not even the ladies .? 
But we didn't know we was coming to- a 

funeral .? 
That's so, aint it though.? You must 
forgive me, friends. You all came to a 
sleeping contest, eh.? 



— Yes. 



yes! 



SEVERAL 

MR, LEMON 



To sleep or not to sleep, as the poet says. 

Yes, yes! 

You did right not to bring flowers. After 

all, none of you is florists. None of you 

understands about flowers. Well, it's 

this way: if I don't go to sleep — if I 

can't — 

But you will, you will — 

Well, if I do go to sleep, I'U sleep. 

[87] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



That's plain. You're all so kind and 
understanding. But suppose — did you 
think of that — suppose I shouldn't wake 
up again.? What of that, eh.? {Every- 
body stares at Mr. Woundy. He smirks 
malevolently.) You see, Mr. Woundy 
understands. 

MR. WOUNDY — You bet I do. 

MR. LEMON — Ah, friends, you don't know what life is, 
like me and Mr. Woundy. I see it 
grow, he sees it die. And / see it die. 
Haven't I watched them all my life.? 
Tended them since I was no higher than 
a daisy .? Given them so much water and 
so much sun.? Sprinkled them like a 
mother .? But even the best of them dies . 
And aint we — aint we all flowers.? 

MRS. SMOCK — But if you'd die, you'd bloom again. 
In Heaven at least! 

MR. LEMON — And that's how I knew you wouldn't 
know and why I brought all them 
decorations. 

MRS. scRUBB — With all this sleeping and dying you're 
running daft. What's itching you.? 

MR. LEMON — First of all, mam, it aint every man can 
come to his own funeral .? 

MRS. SCRUBB — No. 

MR. LEMON — And it aint every man can bring his own 
flowers .? 

MRS. SCRUBB — No. 

MR. LEMON — So I brought my own flowers to my own 
funeral! But you mustn't think I 

[88] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. JOUNCE — 

MR. LEMON — 

MR. RANSEED — 

MR. LEMON — 

MR. SPICK — 

MR. LEMON — 



MR. WOUNDY 
MR. LEMON — 



MRS. SMOCK 



MR. LEMON 



brought them for myself to give myself. 
Trade on Varick Street — trade is bad. 
Jounce has been suffering. 
I should say so. 
Ranseed's complaining — 
That I am — 

The fish game is drooping. 
That it is — 

Why Mr. Woundy himself, as has al- 
ways done a thriving trade, was say- 
ing only this evening — 
Leave me out! 

Pardon, sir, no offense intended! I says: 
Everybody's suffering — everybody but 
you, Edward Lemon. With you, flowers 
is always in demand. When there aint 
funerals there's christenings. When 
there aint christenings there's church 
sociables. There's always something. 
Why don't you be generous.? You're 
going to this funeral of yours. Take a 
few flowers to give yourself, but take 
bunches and bunches for your friends to 
give you. {Atmosphere clears.) So 
here they are, friends. Look at them. 
We'll bury you under them so the whole 

world'll know where you lie. 
A pretty speech, mam. Just like you to 
say that . But to work! The hour grows 
late and I must sleep! Mrs. Scrubb, 
what'll you have.? 

[89] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SCRUBB - 
MR. LEMON — 



MRS. SMOCK 
MR. LEMON - 



MR. RANSEED 
MR. LEMON — 



MR. SPICK 

MR. LEMON — 



MR.JOUNCE ■ 
MR. LEMON 



MR. JOUNCE 

MR. LEMON 

MR. JOUNCE 

MR. LEMON 

MR. JOUNCE 



I aint soft on flowers . But you can give 
me them yellow things, thanking you. 
Jonquils, mam. The return of affection. 
Mrs. Smock — these arbutuses for you.? 
What may they be ? 

The first flower of spring. Just like you, 
they come back every year. Just when 
you think they're gone. Mr. Ranseed .? 
Sweet peas for me, Neighbor Lemon! 
Ah, the symbol of your trade. Mr. 

Spick.? 
What do I want with flowers, a man of 
the sea like me ? 

Ah, that shows you don't know your 
trade. Ain't there seaweed and coral 
and the like.? You must take these 
ferns. Who's left now.? Mr. Jounce! 
Flowers is for women. Lemon. 
You've got to take something. You 
shall have pinks. The nearest I've got 
to the blood of beef. 
You're going daft. Mother Scrubb's 

right. You and your dying. 
You ought to know better, sir. 
I know what I know. You're going to 

sleep — if you can. That's all. 
Haven't I been after explaining — 
That you won't wake up .? Suppose you 
do go to sleep and win your bet — as / 
hope — (He dares to throw a glance at Mr. 
Woundy.) Don't you think we'll be 
able to wake you .? 

[90] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. LEMON How so? 

MR. JOUNCE — Maybe we'll let you sleep a little while, 
but do you think we'll let you more than 
that? {General delight. Mr. Woundy 
occupies himself with imaginary cares.) 

MR. LEMON — We'll see about that, Mr. Jounce, in its 
right season. Who else now? Mr. 
Ryan? 

MR. RYAN — Count me out, I'm referee. 

MR. wouNDY — Lemon, when are you coming to the end 
of this ? 

MR. LEMON — Sorry, Mr. Woundy — 

MR. wouNDY — You and your weeds and sickly twaddle! 
Ryan, I appeal to you! 

MR. RYAN — Mr. Lemon, I got to decide against you. 
The time is getting on. 

MR. LEMON — Right you are, sir. Friends, you'll 
have to excuse me now. {The guests re- 
turn to the chairs. But all want the front 
ones this time.) I'm ready, Mr. Ryan. 

MR. RYAN — Then you'll step in as you are? 

MR. LEMON — No, not quitc. If Mr. Woundy don't 
mind, I'd like to make a little change. 

MR. wouNDY — Afraid of soiling your clothes ? 

MR. LEMON — It ain't that, but I'd be more com- 
fortable without my coat and vest and 
this collar. 

MR. RYAN — Why not take Mr. Lemon into your bed 
room for a wink or two ? 

MR. wouNDY — Very well. 

MR. RYAN — Will you waut any comforts in the coffin 
itself? Pillows or — 

[91 1 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. LEMON — No, I'll go just like everybody else goes. 
MR. RYAN — Good. Fair play to both sides. You 
may go, gentlemen. 

{Mr. Woundy leads the way, bows sardon- 
ically for Mr. Lemon to enter first, gives the guests an ominous 
scowl and follows .) 

MRS. scRUBB — Aint they the terrible pair? 
MRS. SMOCK — Mr. Lemon is a most beautiful man. 
MR. SPICK — To think of him, just to think of him — 

{Mr. Jounce rises suddenly.) 
MRS. SCRUBB — What's wrong with you.? 
MR. JOUNCE — I'm off. 
MRS. SCRUBB — Is it afraid you are .? 
MR. JOUNCE — Me afraid.? Afraid nothing! I'll be 

back in a second. {Stopping at the hall 

door and winking.) 
MR. RYAN — Be sure you come back on your toes — 

easy-like. 
MR. JOUNCE — All right. {He tip-toes out.) 
MRS. SCRUBB — He's goue daft too. 
MR. RANSEED — He's scated to be out so late. 
MRS. SCRUBB — Him scated .? Not him! 
MR. SPICK — Who's afraid anyhow.? 
MR. RANSEED — Yes, who's afraid .? 

{The guests eye one another and smile 
evasively.) 

MRS. SCRUBB — Aint he the brave one though.? 
MR. SPICK — Who, Jounce.? 
MRS. SMOCK — No, Mr. Lemon. Him so kind and soft 

and gentle. 
MR. SPICK — Do you think he'll do it ? 
MRS. SMOCK — Go to sleep in the coffin .? 

[92] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. RANSEED CoUFSC he will. 

MR. SPICK — It don't look so terrible now. I think — 
I think I could sleep in it myself. {Mr. 
Woundy returns, stops and listens.) 

MRS. SMOCK — You go to sleep in the coffin.? 

MR. SPICK — {timidly) — Yes, me. 

MR. WOUNDY — Come on, Spick! {Mr. Spick nearly 
tumbles from his chair. Mr. Woundy 
confronts him.) Well, Spick .f* 

MR. SPICK — I was — I was only — 

MR. WOUNDY — You was, you was — ^you yellow shrimp! 

MR. RANSEED — Spick was ouly fooling-like. 

MR. WOUNDY — Then you could do it, Ranseed? 

MR. RANSEED — Oh, no, not me! 

MR. WOUNDY — Is there anybody thinks he can.? {No 
answer.) You're a fine lot, you and your 
flowers. You look like a hot-house. 
Huh ! Where's Jounce } 

MR. RANSEED — He's gone away — 

MR. WOUNDY — Afraid, eh.? Jounce the butcher, Jounce 
the bold! What.? Why didn't the rest 
of you sneak off.? The lot of you — the 
lot of you together wouldn't make one 
decent burial. I wouldn't waste one box 
on you. 

MR. RYAN — {touching him on the shoulder) — Come, 
Mr. Woundy. Don't bother with 
them. We're wasting time. 
Mr. Woundy turns with a scowl and fol- 
lows Mr. Ryan to the coffin. The guests nudge one another 

stealthily. Mr. Woundy sits down in the arm chair. 

MR. RYAN — {calling out) — Well, Mr. Lemon.? 

[93] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MR. LEMON — {calling back) — In another wink, sir. 

All eyes watch the bed room door. Mr. 
Lemon makes a sensational entrance in a pair of lively 
yellow pajamas and a saucy pink night-cap dotted with 
violets. His air is one of modest bravado. Mr. Woundy, 
who has arisen, has to sit down again. With one will, the 
would-be mourners leave their places and try to intercept 
Mr. Lemon. He escapes by joining Mr. Ryan. 
MR. RANSEED — You're doing the thing in style, old boy. 
MR. SPICK — Better than Romeo. 
MRS. SCRUB B — If you was only a marrying man! 
MR. RYAN — Back with you all! 
MR. RANSEED — You'll die a hero, old boy. 
MR. SPICK — The death of Caesar. 
MRS. scRUBB — And we'll bury you. 

{They threaten him with their flowers.) 
MR. RYAN — Get back, I say, or I'll break your heads. 
MR. RANSEED — {standing his ground as the others retreat) 

Can you yawn, Lemon.? {Mr. Lemon 

yawns a magnificent yawn.) That'll 

help some. 
MR. SPICK — Anybody as can yawn can sleep. 

MRS. SCRUBB — You'll wiu. 

MR. RANSEED — You'll die all right. 

{Mr. Ryan raises a majestic forefinger. 
Mr. Ranseed joins the others. The audience sits down 
noisily.) 
MR. RYAN — Silence in the court room! Are you 

ready, Mr. Lemon.? 
MR. LEMON — I am, sir. 
MR. RYAN — And you, Mr. Woundy? 
MR. WOUNDY — I am. 



[94 



Uneasy Street 



MR. 


RYAN 


THE 


RIVALS 


MR. 


RYAN 


THE 


RIVALS 


MR. 


RYAN 


MR. 


LEMON 


MR. 


RYAN 


MR. 


LEMON 


MR. 


RYAN 


MR. 


WOUNDY - 



MR. RYAN 



Are there any questions.? 

No. 

Everything clear .f* 

Yes. 

Mr. Lemon, you're to go to sleep inside 
of five minutes. Am I right.? 

You are. 

And if you fail you're to treat each of 
us to a glass of beer at O'Sullivan's .? 

I am. 

And if he don't, Mr. Woundy, you — 

That'll do, Ryan! You'll be putting me 
to sleep. Everything's clear. 

Then go ahead! 
Mr. Woundy y controlling himself, sits 
down. Mr. Lemon, after acknowledging some applause 
with a humble bow, approaches the coffin, manages to get his 
left leg over the side, and paws about with his foot like a man 
testing the temperature of a bath tub. His girth handicaps 
him. Deferentially, Mr. Ryan, with a lift and shove, 
helps him disappear. 

THE COMPANY Ah! 

MR. RYAN — {bending over the coffin) — You comfort- 
able.? 

{faintly) — Yes. 

Pull in your elbow. 

Thank you. 

Are you ready.? 

{almost inaudibly) — Yes. 

Then let her go! 

{Mr. Ryan reaches up and lowers the gas 
till the room is in semi-darkness.) 

[95] 



MR. LEMON — 

MR. RYAN 

MR. LEMON 

MR. RYAN — 

MR. LEMON 

MR. RYAN 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



THE COMPANY Ah! 

Mr. Ryan again raises a majestic fore- 
finger. The guests lean forward. They look ready to fall 
from their places. 

MR. RYAN Sh sh! 

THE COMPANY — Sh — sh! 

The stillness of a funeral vault at night. 
Mr. Ryan looks into the coffin, tip-toes to the foot, takes out 
his watch, holds it to his ear, nods and faces the guests. Mr. 
Woundy has drawn himself into a ball. A yawn, like the 
howl of a jackal, from the coffin, and then silence. All ears 
are strained toward the coffin, all eyes toward Mr. Ryan. 

Seconds pass. Mr. Ryan raises one 
finger. Somebody moves his chair and Mr. Ryan waves a 
warning. More seconds pass. Mr. Ryan raises two fin- 
gers. The hall door is opened noiselessly. Mr. Jounce 
appears through the gloom. The guests motion to him 
excitedly. He places something under the table and tip- 
toes over to the audience. He sits down carefully. 
MR. JOUNCE — {in a nervous whisper) — How many.? 

MR. SPICK — Two! 

Mr. Ryan raises three fingers. The 
guests are in a state of agony. Mr. Woundy is leaning 
forward. More seconds pass. A sound like a cat purring f 
Excited nudging. A second sound, a modest, elegiac snore. 
Mr. Woundy rises. The guests desert their places and edge 
forward. A third snore, no longer bashful, but brazen, 
egotistic, triumphant. An outburst of laughter from the 
guests; they charge upon the coffin. 
MR. RYAN — {unable to hold them back) — ^Three 

minutes and forty-six seconds! 
MR. JOUNCE — {turning up the gas) — Hurray! 

[96] 



Uneasy Street 



THE COMPANY — Hurray! 

They throw their flowers on Mr. Lemon. 

MR. RANSEED — {shaking him) — Wake up, Lemon, wake 
up! 

MR. SPICK — Wake, Juliet, wake! 

MRS. SMOCK — Is it dead he is.? 

MR. RANSEED — Dead with a roar Hke that? 

MRS. SMOCK — Wake him, wake him before he dies! 

MR. JOUNCE — ril wake him — hold on — let me do it! 

{He stoops for something under the table.) 

MRS. SMOCK — There's a spell on him! 

MRS. scRUBB — A ghost has got him! 

MRS. SMOCK — Edward, Edward, open your eyes! 

MR. JOUNCE — {stationing himself behind the coiftri) — 
One moment, please. Let me at him! 
Will you look at them yellow pajamas! 
{In a sort of incantation) — Lift your head , 
yellow pansy, lift your head to mother 
dear! {A sprinkling can of splendid pro- 
portions appears. The guests are con- 
vulsed. Mr. Jounce sprinkles carelessly) 
Lift your head, yellow pansy. Mother 
is sprinkling you. 

MR. LEMON — {sits Up, rubs his eyes, stares at his 
neighbors, and begins drying his face with 
his sleeve) — What the devil! 

MR. JOUNCE — Not the devil, but your angel mother! 
{He puts down the can.) 

MR. RYAN — {tapping the victor) — Come out, sir. 
You've won. 
Mr. Lemon pushes the flowers aside. 



97 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



They topple onto the floor. Struggling, the florist is tugged , 
lifted, dragged, yanked from the coffin. 
MR. ranseed — Speech, speech! 
others — Speech, speech! 

Mr. Lemon tries to say something, but he 
catches sight of Mr. Woundy, supported by, rather than 
leaning against the coffin. The guests follow the florist* s 
stare and look petrifled. But Mr. Spick leads an attack 
on the undertaker. 

Afraid! 

Afraid! 

The worm as has buried us all! {Mr. 

Lemon forces his way to Mr. Woundy* s 

side.) Our grandfathers — 

Our mothers and grandmothers — 

My wife, father — 

And he'd bury us too! 

Let's bury him! 

Yes, pitch him into the coffin! 

He's dead enough! 

{Hands reach for Mr. Woundy. He 

retreats.) 

Revenge on him! 

He used to sit waiting for us to come. 

Chilling the marrow in our bones. 

Waiting for years, waiting like a spider. 

And us flies crawling along the other 

side of the street. He's been fooling us. 

He's a fraud! 
MR. SPICK — And us afraid of a fraud! 
MR. JOUNCE — Now he's come to us to be buried, forty 

cents, carcass, soul and all! It's our 



MR. 


SPICK 


OTHERS — 


MRS 


. SCRUBS — 


MR. 


RANSEED — 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MRS 


. SMOCK 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MR. 


SPICK 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MR. 


RANSEED — 


MR. 


JOUNCE 



[98] 



Uneasy Street 



MR. RANSEED- 

MR. SPICK 

OTHERS 

MR. LEMON — 



MR. JOUNCE 



MR. SPICK — 
MR. JOUNCE - 



MR. SPICK — 
MR. RANSEED- 
MR. SPICK — 
MR. JOUNCE — 

MR. LEMON 

MR. SPICK — 
MR. JOUNCE — 
MR. RANSEED- 
MR. SPICK 



turn now. Away with him! To O'Sul- 
Hvan's! 

Into the box and off to O'SuUivan's! 
Afraid! 
Afraid! 

Come and help me, Ryan! {Mr. Ryan 
shakes his head.) — Spick — Ranseed — 
Jounce — shame on you! Butchers and 
grocers and fish-men acting so! Is this 
how you treat a man when he's down.? 
Our Neighbor Woundy! What's Varick 
Street coming to ^ 

Varick Street.? Varick Street's come 
into its own! It's our turn now! Ha, 
Lemon! We know you too! We've got 
you at last ! You and your flower talk — ■ 
you're as big a fraud as that body 
snatcher! 
Two of a kind ! 

You've been in league — scheming 
against us — him with his coffin and you 
with your weeds! 

Neighbor Woundy and Neighbor Lemon! 
We've listened to you two all these years! 
Our tongues scared stiff as dead fish! 
Now you've got to listen to us! 
Jounce — Ranseed — Spick — 
Shut up, you pink geranium! 
Or you'll go in the same box with him! 
Go the way the loved ones went! 
With grandfather, father — and Woundy 
himself! 

[99] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



Mr. Lemon continues to struggle toward 
his neighbor^ hut Mrs. Scruhb slips his wreath around his 
neck and holds him. Mr. Woundy, no longer resisting, is 
thrust into the coffin. He disappears with a strange smile. 
MR. LEMON — I'll have to get dressed. 
MR. JOUNCE — No, you don't — you'll go as you are, 
pretty pansy. 

I'll catch my death o' cold. 

Woundy'll bury you cheap! 

That I will, Lemon. 

Ha, Woundy submits! 

Woundy capitulates! 

Woundy knows his betters! 

We'll carry him gently — as mothers do. 

Like undertakers. 

Like pallbearers. 

And do it cheaper than you — 

The last of the Woundys! 

For forty cents and a tip to the grave- 
diggers! 

On to O'Sullivan's! 

On to O'Sullivan's! 

We'll drink, long life to Varick Street! 

(from the coffin depths) — ^And a long life 
hereafter! 

Solemn exit — Mr. Lemon led by the women 
clutching the wreath-collar, followed by the pallbearers — two 
at the head and two at the foot — carrying the coffin. 



MR. 


LEMON — 


MR. 


JOUNCE — 


MR. 


WOUNDY — 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MR. 


SPICK 


MR. 


RANSEED 


MRS 


. SMOCK — 


MRS 


. SCRUBB 


MR. 


RANSEED — 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MR. 


SPICK 


MR. 


RANSEED — 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


THE 


REST 


MR. 


JOUNCE 


MR. 


WOUNDY 



CURTAIN 



[lOO] 



THE SILENT WAITER 
A Tragi-Comedy 



To Gordon Craig 

and 
His Marionnettes 



THE SILENT WAITER 

A Tragi-Comedy 
CHARACTERS: 

JIM 
HAL 
THE WAITER 

One of the dimly lighted windows of a cafe seen 
from the street. The rest of the building^ and of its environs, 
in darkness. At the rise of the curtain, the shade of the 
window is down. Behind it, a distinct murmur of voices: 
FIRST — My head's really hot. I've been having too 

much. 
SECOND — Tut, lad. It's not the wine, but this corner 

we're in. It's getting stuffy. 
FIRST — I'll raise the shade — 
SECOND — And betray our privacy.? {They laugh quietly.) 

Wait — don't you bother. Let the waiter do it. 

{Louder) — I say there — Waiter! Raise this 

shade, will you.? 

Pause. An unseen hand raises the shade. The 
window is oblong, with the long lines horizontal. It is com- 
posed of three panels. In the first and third, two young men 
are seated in profile. One can only see their heads, torsos 
and arms. Their chairs and table stand below the lower 
frame of the window. Most of the significant action which 
ensues, appertaining to the entrances, pantomime and ex- 
eunts of the mens hands, wine-bottles, glasses, etc., unfolds 
in the lower half of the middle panel, and in the upper half, 
as regards the entrances and exits of the waiter. One cannot 
see his head; it is always higher than the upper frame of the 
window. The action is vivid, incisive, rhythmical, and 

[ 103 ] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



symbolical of the given mood or speech. The three men are 
in conventional evening dress. Jim is framed by the left, 
Hal by the right panel. Jim is romantic and considerably 
younger than Hal in appearance, but older, slower, graver 
in intonation and gesture. His features haven t attained 
their ultimate outline; HaVs have. His have the air of an 
ascetic. The scene might be suggested thus: 



JIM 



WAITER 



Action of hands, bottles, 
glasses, etc. 



HAL 



The waiter turns mechanically and slowly dis- 
appears. 

JIM — That's better, Hal. 
HAL — Rather hot these nights, eh.? 
JIM — No, it's the wine. 

HAL — Maybe something else does it — something not to- 
night or the wine } 
JIM — What do you mean now .? 
HAL — Give it up .? 
JIM — Yes, you're cryptic again. 
HAL — To-morrow, you turtle! 
JIM — Guilty. {He laughs sheepishly^ 
HAL — Forgotten her so soon } 

JIM — Not quite. But after we've talked nothing but 
Stella, Stella, ever since we came, and to- 
morrow, tomorrow — 
HAL — What then t 
JIM — Why — since they're the only two topics I can feel 

about, think about, talk about — and the two you 

[ 104 ] 



The Silent Waiter 



like most to humor me in — well, it was only 
Christian of me to try a new one. 

HAL — Why ? 

JIM — Don't play the innocent. To-morrow's my party, 
not yours. 

HAL — It'll be mine — outside looking on! {He laughs jo- 
vially.) 

JIM — Drop your eternal banter. 

HAL — Why so serious .? You've grown positively solemn. 

JIM — It's the heat — the wine — to-morrow — hang it, I'm 
nervous — it's — 

HAL — You ! 

JIM — Me.? 

HAL — It's not alone you — but every man the night be- 
fore — 

JIM — Don't degrade it. You needn't class us with 
common — 

HAL — There, there! 

JIM — Why shouldn't I be solemn } — 

HAL — It's your last night — 

JIM — What do you mean now .? 

HAL — Touchy! You know tradition says that the night 
before a man marries he shall spend with the 
boys — 

JIM — Hang tradition — 

HAL — And that the boys in this instance — so we agreed — 
are concentrated in me .? — 

JIM — Drown tradition, I say — 

HAL — So do I, lad. Fill them up again. 

The bottle y held out by Haly appears in the middle 

panel. 

JIM — Hold on, old man, I've had enough. 

[los] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — But this one's exceptional — iconoclastic — one gulp 
will do it ? 

Jim's glass appears reluctantly, wavering a little. 
1 he bottle tilts to the horizontal, and then to the upside-down 
perpendicular. 

HAL — Hello — empty! I say, Waiter — another quart — 
JIM — No, Hal, no! 

Bottle and glass exeunt. 
HAL — Make it a pint this time — 
JIM — The last — it's getting late — and to-morrow — 
HAL — Is near! A pint this time. Waiter. 

The waiter appears, bows almost imperceptibly, 
and disappears. 
HAL — A slow old cuss that. And silent. Acts as though 

he'd lost his tongue. 
JIM — {with sudden animation) — I say — Hal! 
HAL — Yes .? 

JIM — {eagerly) — Am I — really — worthy of her ? 
HAL — What — again ? 
JIM — I can't help it. Do you really think I'll — make her 

happy — and keep her happy — 
HAL — Reptition three hundred and sixty-six! — 
JIM — I know, old man, but once for all — 
HAL — Once for all, Jim, that isn't the question! Of 

course, you'll make her happy, keep her happy — 

but the real question is — 
JIM — What .? 

To Jim's disgust, the waiter reappears, leaves the 
smaller bottle, bows as before and disappears. 
HAL — Weird fellow that — 
JIM — What is the question .? 
HAL — Fill them up first. 

[io6] 



The Silent Waiter 



The bottle and Jim's glass reappear, the glass more 

unconscious , steadier, than before. Hal fills it; glass and 

bottle disappear. Soon Hal's filled glass ^appears — in a 

direct approach. 

JIM — The question ? 

HAL — Don't look so suspicious . And tradition comes 
first. Let's get rid of it. 

JIM — I'd rather drink to her — as usual. 

HAL — Certainly! You intuitive cuss! Stella — the enemy 
of tradition — let her sink it ! Ready .? 
Jim's glass reappears. The glasses clink. 

HAL — To Stella. 

They drink — iirst Jim, quickly and awkwardly, 

narrowly watched for a moment by Hal — and then Hal, de- 
liberately. 

JIM — Now! 

HAL — To business, eh } 

JIM — Ugly word ! 

HAL — To work — is that better.? 

JIM — Much. Begin. 

HAL — {cautiously) — Lad, I'm older than you. 

JIM — {sullenly) — I've heard that before. 

HAL — I've been through more, suffered more — I know 
more. Head and heart have finally learned their 
respective functions. Don't eat each other peri- 
odically. Not about love. 

JIM — Ha, now I know what made you a recluse — 

HAL — Rats! 

JIM — No, cats! 

HAL — Shut up — ^where was I .? 

JIM — On the point of dubbing me, an adolescent ass. 

[107] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — Don't be one now. I'm not talking down. But 
across the level of this table. 

JIM — Why the preamble.'* It sounds prophetic. 

HAL — Ordinarily, it'd be platitudinous, inflated common- 
place. Now, it is prophetic. 

JIM — Moralize, you monk — 

HAL — Thanks. Now, the real question — 

JIM — Ah yes, the real — 

HAL — Jim! Is it your turn to talk, or mine.? 

JIM — Sorry. Goon. 

HAL — Are we or aren't we — friends .? 

JIM — We are — go on . 

HAL — To you, the world — outside of her and me — 

JIM — Is an abomination! Go on, will you.? 

Hal quickly finishes his wine. Jim is leisurely. 

HAL — The question isn't will you make and keep Stella 
happy. But will she make and keep you — 

JIM — What's that .? 

HAL — Don't flare up again — do you want me to stop .? 

JIM — Go on. 

HAL — You think me a sacrilegious meddler — 

JIM — I don't — 

HAL — You do — and if you don't, you ought to. Well — 
it's just this sacred myopia — sacred regard — I 
won't say you have for Stella so much as men 
generally have for the woman of their eye — it's 
this I'm after — that I want to denude — ^that I 
want you to see as I do — because it's the most in- 
sidious sentimentality, most vicarious poison 
in the whole human system. It's deadly. 

[io8] 



The Silent Waiter 



JIM — I won't deny it. I wouldn't know how. But 
Stella — 

HAL — I'm not saying you have it for her — 

JIM — I have — and you know it! Don't beat about — 

particularize! 
HAL — Good! You're a man! Shake! 

HaVs hand appears. 
JIM — You must have had doubts hitherto — 
HAL — Twaddle! Come! It's not the lover or friend 

I'm after. 

Jirns hand appears. The hands clasp, and 

disappear. 

HAL — Well, Mister Man — 

JIM — Thanks — I was sick of the lad — 

HAL — Just an affectionate diminutive not usual with us 
Americans — 

JIM — Shut up and go on! 

HAL — Well — you and I and the rest of us have got to 
get over the jejune phase of the love mania, and 
the sooner the better for biology! Now that we're 
particularizing — can you recall the nursery rhyme 
which — might be applied — 

JIM — To Stella? Ye gods, haven't I said it to her, 
ad nauseam ? Twinkle, twinkle, little star — 

HAL — How I wonder what you are — 

JIM — Up above the world so high — 

HAL — Like a diamond in the — 

JIM — Enough — cut it — it's absurd! 

HAL — Not at all. It's profoundly, fundamentally seri- 
ous, tragic — whether a Roman say it — Micay mica, 
parva Stella — or — 

[109] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



JIM — Cut the Latin — IVe made her suffer that, too! 

HAL — She doesn't suffer — on the contrary — 

JIM — Never mind — go on! 

HAL — You understand, it's this self-prostration I'm 
after? It's not Stella. I've only the highest 
regard — 

JIM — Hypocrite! There you go yourself! One'd never 
suspect your regard from your visits. You 
haven't been to see her alone — without me — well, 
since you introduced me there — bless you! 

HAL — That's another question — quite foreign. You 
know I never go anywhere — work nights — prefer 
my studies — my candle. And besides, she's been 
your preserve, as they say, from that moment 
to this! 

JIM — What do you mean now ? 

HAL — I don't have to explain. Now, love — love isn't 
self-annihilation — nor is it altruism — 

JIM — You must have loved a bit in your day to talk so 
fluently now — 

HAL — This isn't my day, it's yours — 

JIM — (sighs) — To-morrow — 

HAL — And I'd rather talk fluently than suffer — 

JIM — Cynic! So would I. Which one taught you how .? 

HAL — We'll reserve that roast for another meal — 

JIM — That sounds bitter — 

HAL — Not at all — it's matter of fact — 

JIM — Who was she .? 

HAL — Are we discussing me or you ? 

JIM — Me — but — 

HAL — Then be quiet. Besides, to-morrow? — 

JIM — Is half an hour off — 



no] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — As to the day — but the event ? 

JIM — Twenty and a half long, long hours — 

HAL — A lightning calculator should see hours equal — 

JIM — He doesn't — so hurry — 

HAL — Half an hour longer ? 

JIM — Yes, yes! 

HAL — Where was I ? 

JIM — Altruism. 

HAL — Love isn't altruism — far from it. It'd be mighty 
poor stuff if it were — Nature'd stop it in a jiffy. 
The best of love — its real innerds — is strictly self- 
ish. 

JIM — Hal! 

HAL — Isn't it .? 

JIM — Decidedly no! 

HAL — If it isn't, you're not in love. Not with Stella, 
but with theories! 

JIM — You are ! 

HAL — You are. We're like two dogs at a bone — 

JIM — Sorry — go on. 

HAL — Bring it down from the sky — out of the rarefied 
regions — diamonds don't grow up there. Poetry's 
as misleading as love — as sorely impregnated with 
sentiment, and as bewildering. Just why do you 
want to make and keep her happy .^ 

JIM — Well — 

HAL — For yourself, eh .? 

JIM — No — absolutely — I — 

HAL — A man who stutters, lies! 

JIM — Hal! 

HAL — Jim f 
Pause. 



Ill] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — Shall we go home ? 
JIM — No — go on. 

Hal laughs gently. 
HAL — You admit the charge ? 
JIM — Don't rub it in. 
HAL — Don't look so sour! 
JIM — For God's sake, go on. 
HAL — Not till you answer — and grin. 
JIM — I admit it — 
HAL — But you haven't grinned .? 
JIM — Damn you — there. 

Jim grimaces. Hal laughs freely. 
JIM — Cut it. 
HAL — Since the question isn't that you make Stella 

happy, but that she make you happy — 
JIM — Oh! 

HAL — You admit the former depends on the latter.? 
JIM — I suppose so. 
HAL — That you can't make her happy unless you're 

happy yourself.? 
JIM — No. 

HAL — That it takes her to make you happy.? 
JIM — Yes, yes, but — 
HAL — And to keep her happy — as you add — she has to 

keep you happy — 
JIM — Hal! How dare you presume — 

He makes an effort to rise. 
HAL — Don't be heroic — sit down. 

Jim subsides. 
HAL — Well.? 

Jim doesnh answer. 

[112] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — You've thought about it, haven't you? Not a 
mere brutal premise on my part, is it? 

Jim shakes his head. 
HAL — And you've not only wondered if she can keep you 

happy — but if she will — of her own volition. 
JIM — {laboriously) — Why do you tell me this to-night ? 
HAL — I'm not telling it — I'm dragging it out of you — 

getting you to tell it — not to me, to yourself! 

Jim nods. 
HAL — So you don't go to church on your knees, and deaf, 

dumb and blind. I'm brutal because I love you, 

lad — know you — 
JIM — Don't call me, lad. 
HAL — I'm brutal to Stella only by implication, and 

because — 
JIM — You don't love her, know her — 
HAL — Because I do! 
JIM — What's that! 
HAL — In you, man, in you! 
JIM — Oh! 

HAL — I can only speak of her side — generally — 
JIM — From your experience with those who taught you 

to talk? 
HAL — Don't be nasty. Resentment's out of place here. 
JIM — Sorry — go on. 

HAL — And don't be sorry. It puts me on a pedestal. 
JIM — Go on. 
HAL — From my experience — and my observation of 

others — 
JIM — Rotten expression! 
HAL — Yes — but we're not botanizing — 
JIM — Biologizing! 

[113] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — From what I've felt and seen — is that better? — 

JIM — Much! 

HAL — Of the regard men have for women — 

JIM — A rebuttal ? 

HAL — Yes. 

JIM — Good Lord! That point's no longer in order. 
I've conceded it. 

HAL — Granted. But losing that illusion — that ballast — 
we fall to earth with a bump and rebound back 
to the sky — 

JIM — Good Lord! 

HAL — Where we hear woman's version of the twinkle 
ditty sprawling to our stardom. 

JIM — You don't know Stella. 

HAL — I do. 

JIM — See here, Hal! How well do you know her.? This 
is the second time — 

HAL — Never mind — 

JIM — Don't say that! I'm not a baby! 

HAL — You are when you prattle — 

JIM — I'm not prattling. You knew her before I did, 
long before — 

HAL — Not long before — 

JIM — Before' 

HAL — {evasively) — Well } 

JIM — See here — how well did you know her .? {Reflec- 
tively) Funny, I've never asked you that.? Defi- 
nitely.? Nor her either! Hal! 

HAL — {lightly) — ^Too blind — too dumb — trustful — not 
caring a fig about history after you won her — 
very early, wasn't it .? 

JIM — This isn't a mocking matter — 

[114] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — It is — 

JIM — Glad to hear it. It's a relief, but — 

HAL — And being trustful of me and the rest as soon as 

you were sure of her — 
JIM — Will you stop ? 
HAL — Not till I've answered your: Funny, I've never 

asked you that. 
JIM — Well, you've answered it. Sorry — 
HAL — Glad, you mean — 
JIM — Glad. 
Pause. 
HAL — You see how much you want her for yourself.'' 
JIM — We've been through that. 
HAL — And how much your so-called wanting yourself for 

her is the same thing in the same glass .? 
JIM — Get back to the sky — this is uncomfortable — 
HAL — That's why folk worship. It's easier. 
JIM — I'm through with worship. 
HAL — Even the semblance of it } 
JIM — With the whole of it! 
HAL — Good for you ! You've graduated — 
JIM — From ladism, eh.? 
HAL — No, from what folk call, manhood! 
JIM — Thank God! 
HAL — Fill them up again! 
JIM — Let's! 

Repetition of pantomime of bottle and glasses. 
JIM — To manhood, deceased — 
HAL — No, Jim — to you — reborn. 
JIM — And you, Hal. 
HAL — To us then — 
JIM — Individually — 



[us] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — And together. 

They laugh a little, drink, laugh a little. 
JIM — Now? 
HAL — We're back in the sky — looking down on — adored 

by — the women who are fooHsh. 
JIM — But not Stella ? 
HAL — Not Stella. 
JIM— Well.? 

HAL — A final gulp first to the ladies in question — 
JIM — By all means — 
HAL — It's a long journey back — 
JIM — With many circumlocutions! 
HAL — To the ladies! 
JIM — The ladies! 

They clink and finish their glasses. Hal looks ab- 
stracted. 
JIM— Well.? 

HAL — Eh .? 

JIM — What are you waiting for .? 

Hal loses more and more of his nonchalance as he 
proceeds. 

HAL — How I wonder what you are ! 
JIM — Are you drunk .? 
HAL — No — reminiscing. 
JIM — Oh, the nursery — 
HAL — Invoking it as a text — 
JIM — I thought we were through with that .? 
HAL — With the man's version — 
JIM — And the woman's .? — 

HAL — The same, but the interpretation's different — 
JIM — Different.? 

[ii6] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — Quite a little — decidedly — vastly — 
JIM — Stop fishing for words! 
HAL — Eh ? 

JIM — You seem in difficulty — for the first time — be- 
fuddled — ^just as much as we — 
HAL — Who ? 
JIM — Lovers. 
HAL — How ? 
JIM — When women enter! 

Hal makes an obvious effort at self-recovery . 
HAL — I'm considering them — want to spare them, be nice 

to them, gallant — 
JIM — Sentimentalist yourself! 
HAL — No, I'm poising my lance for the attack. These 

are mortal lists, and he who wins — man or woman 

— is the one with the intricate equipment — 
JIM — Go to. Sir Walter! 
HAL — Go to, yourself. 
JIM— Well.? 
HAL — {nervously) — Hadn't we better have some more 

wine .? 
JIM — Your brain's addled already! 
HAL — Woman champion! 

Jim bows ironically. 
HAL — Now, don't interrupt. I have to feel my way here. 
JIM — Why now and not before ? 
HAL — I have to be impersonal — prate in the plural — 
JIM — Don't mind me — use the singular — 
HAL — Want to probe my skeletons .? 
JIM — Whose else can you prate about .? — 
HAL — {suddenly) — You wont mind the revelation? 
JIM — Not at all. 

[117] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — {evasive again) — ^You're safe against it ? 

JIM — Why not ? 

HAL — Glad to hear it. I'm not. 

JIM — Where are you driving now .? 

HAL — That remains to be seen. 

JIM — Confound your cryptomania. 

HAL — Double-confound it. 

JIM— Well.? 

They study each other for a moment. Hal breaks 
the suspense. 

HAL — Well — it's like this! Begins like a testament, eh.? 

JIM — Begin, begin — 

HAL — With the world listening t — 

JIM — Who cares about a waiter t — 

HAL — Oh, is he there } — 

JIM — In the next room — he can't hear. But Hal — can 
this be you t Are you afraid of opinion .? 

HAL — Only lest somebody think I'm spreading a treatise 
far more imposing than the facts deserve. 

JIM — Lord, have mercy — 

HAL — There's nothing so stupid to listen to in the whole 
curriculum of gossip as a man's sex reactions. 

JIM — What circumnavigation! Will you ever come to 
port \ I can't find you any more. Where are you t 

HAL — Here . 

JIM — Who'd know it 1 Considering it's you — our para- 
gon among ascetics — ^without flaw hitherto t Have 
you of all men — a conscience .? 

HAL — An artistic one. I despise banality. 

JIM — Art is its glorification! 

HAL — Don't be epigrammatic. 

[ii8] 



1 



The Silent Waiter 



JIM — Then save me from it! Will you ever begin? 

Hal is nonplussed. Then quickly — 
HAL — Jim! 

JIM — What's the matter? 
HAL — I — can't — 
JIM — Can't what ? 

HAL — Don't look at me — I simply can't — go on with this ! 
JIM — What can't you go on with ? 
HAL — This — generalizing. It's stifling — 
JIM — Stifling? — 

HAL — I've got to come to — the particular — 
JIM — Woman? 
HAL — Yes. 

JIM — Why shouldn't you .? — does it — hurt ? 
HAL — Damnably. 
JIM — Hold it back — 
HAL — Too late — I can't — 
JIM — Wait — I'll call for more wine — 
HAL — I don't want wine. 
JIM — Then out with it — you can trust me — get rid of 

it — ^we've no secrets from each other — 
HAL — That's just the trouble — we have! 
JIM — Yes? 

No answer. 
JIM — Hal! 

No answer. 
JIM — Look at me — who is it ? 

No answer. 
JIM — Christ — it isn't — 
HAL — It — is. 
JIM — God help us — 

[119] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



Jim clutches out and collapses onto the table. One 
can barely see his head. 
HAL — Not US — ^Jim lad — you. 
JIM — {faintly) — Me? 

HAL You. 

Jim slowly raises his head. His face is zvildy hag- 
gard. Hal's is ashen — but he again seems master of him- 
self. 

HAL — It doesn't exist — now. 
JIM — It's past .? — 
HAL — Past. 

Jim straightens himself with the aid of the table. 
JIM — That isn't so terrible — if it's over — is it over.? — 

is it — 
HAL — Utterly — 
JIM — For good .? 
HAL — Yes. 
JIM — Then what's so terrible.? — except that I didn't 

know before.? — but that's not so terrible — {he 

laughs huskily) — is it.? — that you never told me.? 

But— Stella.?— 
HAL — That's it. 
JIM — What.? 
HAL — Can't you see .? 
JIM — My head's going round — 
HAL — Give it a rest — and I'll tell you. I can't — quite — 

with you looking at me — 
JIM — You haven't gone back on me, too.? 
HAL — No — nor she — don't say too. 
JIM — Is there anything — to be ashamed of.? Hal! 
HAL — Nothing. 
JIM — What then .? 

[120] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — (tenderly) — It's not hers or mine now — it's just 

yours — entirely. 
JIM — Mine — now — entirely ? What is ? 
HAL — The shock. 

A long pause. Jim seems gradually to shrink into 
himself. His head seeks his arm and the table. 
HAL — That's right, try to rest, and I'll tell you. And 

remember, I'm with you — I'll help — 
JIM — {faintly) — You will .? 
HAL — Yes. You're not — alone. 

Jim's shoulders move convulsively . But one cannot 
hear him sob. His hand gropes its way across to Hal's. 
Hal's other hand reaches out and strokes Jim's head. The 
convulsions cease. 
HAL — Shall I tell you .? 
JIM — Yes. 
HAL — I want to help you — not alone because I want to — 

but because I've got to. 
JIM — What good — will that do } 
HAL — Lots . 

Pause. 
JIM — For God's sake — don't be silent — say something! 

Hal strokes him further . 
HAL — Is that better.? 

JIM — It helps me to think — my head's whirling — that's 
better — never mind now — let's be men. 

Hal smiles sadly and stops stroking Jim. 
HAL — May I hold — 
JIM — Yes — a little longer — you'll have to — I can't let 

go yet. 
HAL — We're together in this .? 
JIM — Individually — and — 

[I2l] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — Good — you remember the toast! 

JIM — You're a brick — 

HAL — Kind of hard, eh ? — 

JIM — And soft. 

HAL — Bless you. 
Pause. 

JIM — Go on now. I can stand it. 

HAL — Sure .? 

JIM — Yes. 

HAL — {quietly) — Not being a Christian — Fm not blaming 
anybody. Remember that, will you, all through.? 

JIM — Yes. 

HAL — Stella — never belonged to me. 

JIM — No.? 

HAL — {growing more and more pensive as he proceeds — 
Jim less and less attentive) — In the superficial 
acceptance of such phrases, one could say, she 
loved and belonged to me — but in reality, she 
never did. She belonged to herself, loved herself. 
That isn't peculiar. What I mean is — she loved 
what she thought me to be — craved that — and not 
finding me to be what she thought — loved what 
she insisted I must be — demanded it of me. 
I tried, of course, but couldn't keep it up. Fm 
not superhuman. To be what she wanted, I had 
to be more than myself — had to lie. Even lies 
have their limit. So I burst — dropped in her 
regard from what she thought and demanded down 
to what she could, in justice to either of us, no 
longer think or demand. I was thrown aside like 
a used glove. 

JIM — Dear old Hal. She didn't understand you. 

[122] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — Love in such a case has nothing to do with under- 
standing the other fellow. It has solely to do with 
self-understanding — with self-imagining and self- 
adventure the means — towards self-expression, the 
ultima Thule. One sets forth on such a quest ex- 
pecting to find not only what one sets forth to see, 
but anticipating thrilling encounters not bargained 
for. One can*t return from such a quest. One 
must continue it to the death, or try a new one. 

JIM — {dazed) — Is that where I .? — 

HAL — We'll come to you later. At the start, I was as 
much the adventurer as she. I loved what I 
thought her. 

JIM — Worship.? 

HAL — Self-prostration to star-exaltation — worship and 
deception — center and circumference. 

JIM — Even you .? 

HAL — You don't recover from a disease till you've had it } 

JIM — No. 

HAL — In my case, however, when I didn't find her what 
I asked her to be — 

JIM — Dear girl — 

HAL — I somehow compromised — or thought I did — tried 
to — between that and what she actually was. 
I came as far around to her as it's possible for one 
being to come to another after an infection of 
worship. But even a recovery from such an in- 
fection leaves one exhausted, crippled. In her 
case, there could be no compromise, because her 
worship of me — her prostration — was directed — 
if anything so nebulous can be directed — to her- 
self. She didn't crave the ideal man so much as 



[123 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



she did some hypothetical creature which should 
supersede her, as suppliant, to herself, as star, so 
that she might be the latter, solely, freely, un- 
trammeled. This required a supernatural agency 
on the part of the man of her choice. Somehow, I 
was able to be, I was elected — that choice — but try 
as I would, I couldn't fill out her portrait of the 
priest. 

JIM. — How quietly you tell it! 

HAL — I can now — I couldn't have then. I was in the 
midst of elements then — an atom driven, whirled, 
knocked down, broken, pieced together, lifted 
again — ^with the whole round over for another series 
of concussions experience could never brace me 
against. She was always the one clear image out- 
side the tornado — always slightly reproachful — 
but otherwise somewhere aloof from it all — a thing 
on a stone — as still as the stone — a part of it — 
seemingly the stone herself — but for that almost 
imperceptible frown. At the last, she was a cool 
god who has no further concern with a disturbance 
after the act of pushing it away, like a meteor, 
with his finger-tip. Even his frown vanishes. 

JIM — (in awe) — Is — that — Stella .? 

HAL — {with oblivious rapture) — One had to admire such a 
mechanism even when one sufi^ered most — the 
moment of the tiny impact — the moment before 
the crash of destruction. However, that's over. 
I haven't suffered since. 

JIM — Quiet, you mean.? 

HAL — Quiet's a pretty good name for it. 

JIM — So am I. 



[124] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — What do you mean ? 

JIM — I don't know. It's queer. Go on. 

HAL — Have you been listening ,? 

JIM — As closely as I could. 

HAL — I see. 

JIM — Don't mind me. 

Jim withdraws his hand; Hal doesnt prevent him. 

HAL — {as before) — It was an everlasting round of give, 
give, on my part. And each thing given, soon 
tossed away with no more effort than a gesture, 
always beautiful to see. And always followed by 
that imperceptible sign of reproach — the great 
goad — the quick lightning — its tip, the obliterating 
bolt. The give, give — less and less a part of me, 
more and more an act inspired by what she held 
me up to, drove me on with, struck me down. 
And so, with my degrees of sheer exhaustion 
coming more and more frequently and uncon- 
trollably — I was soon empty — after only a few 
weeks of such a pace — empty of what she held me 
up to. I retreated to my real self — as a reinforce- 
ment — no, not even to that, for my real self had 
fallen deformed, hunchbacked, spineless. It was 
no longer the original I'd brought her — no longer 
a force to depend on. I needed an army, not a 
cripple. And even had it been my old self — an 
army if ever there was one! — strong, glad, moun- 
tain-climbing defence-destroyer that it was! — she 
had received its service. Repetition would have 
revolted her. 

JIM — Stella! 

HAL — These were always the moments when she was 

[125] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



truly oblivious, most pitiless. When the imper- 
ceptible flashed to the perceptible. A little giving 
on her part — the shadow of a compromise — 

JIM — She never gave .? — 

HAL — No. A little giving in the form of a foolish caress — 
not necessarily felt by her — would have been the 
torch to revive me enough to make still one more 
efl^ort to pursue her star-chase for her. But I 
wasn't an atom worth helping — not in her cosmos. 
From her view — up from the deeps of her — con- 
sciously or sub-consciously — she was right. 

JIM. — Can you say that.? 

HAL — Yes, dispassionately. 

JIM — What — am I — to say .? 

HAL — {unheeding) — I confess — I wasn't so pleasantly 
philosophical at the time. It wasn't flattering to 
my ego. To learn that I wasn't loved for myself — 
for what I had to give — for not even a particle of 
either — that was merely humiliating. But when I 
couldn't supply what she wanted — a self she de- 
manded I be and give — self of her self — it was 
annihilating. It left me dazed, dumb, stupid, 
useless. Old Doctor Travel, himself, couldn't 
cure me . Cured me of the suffering, yes — but not 
of the stupor. Even now-a-days, fully two years 
later — when I sit up there nights in my tower — 
the cell only you are permitted to visit — I begin 
wondering — I go over it all again — do it unawares 
— it catches me like a shadow — comes in like a 
ghost and takes me — ^while I'm reading a book — 
pondering another man's thought — it comes be- 
tween me and him — as though corporeal things 

[126] 



The Silent Waiter 



didn't exist — only essences of things once corporeal 
— to which I'm recalled. The stupor deepens. 
The very room is enveloped by it — is gone. And 
I fancy that not even I — am sentient. 
Hal's face has undergone the change he describes. 

JIM — Hal! 

HAL — And I wonder — if I can — whether my conclusions 
are a result of so much cogitation — airy theoriz- 
ing — or an outcome of the stupor out of which 
nothing concrete can ever come again — beyond 
further stupor and further speculation. 
Jim sits up. His expression is one of terror. 

JIM— Hal— Hal! 
Hal smiles. 

HAL — Well .? I'm not afraid. I can go on with it. 

JIM — You're not — you can — but what of me .? 

HAL — {sobering to the former situation) — You.? Jim.'* Oh 
yes — 

JIM — You did — what I'm still doing — 

HAL — Yes, lad. 

JIM — Went through it — it's over with you — but with 
me.? — 

HAL — With you — ^Jim — it's — 
He falters. 
Jim hides his face in his hands. 

JIM — Why did you — tell me — to-night .? 

HAL — Are you sorry .? 

JIM — {with a supreme efort) — No. 

HAL — Resentful .? 

JIM — No. 

HAL — What then .? 

JIM — I feel — so frightfully — alone — lost. 

[127] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — I'm here. 

JIM — But you — can't take her place. Stella! Stella! 
He once more seeks refuge in his arms. 

HAL — {gently) — Nobody can take her place. Not even 
you. 

JIM — It's all so — desperate. To-morrow's — ^gone — and 
the next day — all days! Why — did you — tell me.f" 

HAL — To save you, as it's called, and to — 

JIM — You think this saves me.? It may save me 
against — but what does it save me for — {he sits 
up) — What for, eh .? 
His tone is menacing. 

HAL — Yourself. 

JIM — What am I to do with that .? — what good is it 
now.? — it's dead — it couldn't be any use to 
her — and being no use to her, what do I care 
about it .? — it's nothing to me — it's worth throwing 
away, that's all — before it was ever used — like 
yours! 

HAL — You know it was used. Richly, gloriously. 

JIM — But not like yours — it never got so far. There 
were reproaches — there still are — but not like 
yours. You got silent ones — the kind a god would 
get — or even a man — I get actual ones — chiding — 
the kind a child would. I was used all right — 
richly and the rest — so I thought before you began. 
I've been to mountain peaks and sky places, but 
not like yours. She's never goaded me higher. 
I'm not worth goading higher. I'm a — 

HAL — That was on the way, Jim. And you're not a 
child — neither was I — you were younger — that's 

[128] 



The Silent Waiter 



all. You needed more suffering first — apprentice- 
ship — further maturing — and then! — 

JIM — Stella compromised! I'm her compromise! 

HAL — Nothing of the sort. You're simply the new quest 
leading to the same old jungle. I've been seeing 
it right along — since I got back — in you yourself. 
Not at first — not for some time — but in our last 
few meetings — your growing uncertainty — your 
hidden cancer breaking out in moroseness — that 
haunted look you never had before — sprite that 
you were! I could see by its greater frequency 
just what she was thinking and doing — her motive 
and method — how high her thought of you flew — 
how much quicker and sharper the goad. 
Jim has sunk to a stupor. 

I could see the whole plot more and more clearly — 
saw it as I sat here — saw it beyond further need 
of seeing. Not so many weeks ago — the first 
gloom I encountered — the first sign of that look — 
that beginning of a paralysis as sure of its victim 
as death — proved it to me — more clearly than if 
she had proclaimed it herself: This is he — this 
the one — this henceforth mine ! Are you listening t 

JIM — Trying to. 

HAL — Do you need a final proof .^ 

JIM — Yes — for God's sake — 

HAL — The so-called courtship was a long one t — 

JIM — I don't have to tell you that — 

HAL — But the engagement itself — the announcement- 
sudden } 

JIM — You know that too — 

HAL — And the wedding cards — close after — still more so .? 



[129 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



JIM — {reviving) — Yes! Yes! {with frantic joy) — Hal! 

Is that it ? 
HAL — Yes. You were ordained at last. Your novitiate 

over — your priesthood begun. 
JIM — {with clutching eagerness)—-^ zs that how it hap- 
pened — 
HAL — {warily) — With me.? Yes. But much earlier — 

almost the moment we met. But it didn't last 

long. I told you that. We never got to your — 

to-morrow. 
JIM — {gloomy again) — ^There you are. 
HAL — Where .? 
JIM — {hopelessly depressed) — Yours had a beginning — at 

once — and an ending. A life and death — a full 

eternity. 
HAL — You envy me .? 
JIM — Yes! 
HAL — Despite being able to see you'd have gone the way 

I did.? 
JIM — Even so — even more so! I might have gone 

further — 
HAL — No, Jim. Don't try to deceive yourself there. 

You can't. 
JIM — But think of what I've lost! Who cares about 

suffering.? — what of that.? — God give me that — 

rather than this! 
HAL — It can't be — 
JIM — Thanks to you! Of course it can't! Not with 

me — not very far! But did you have to stop me.? 

Why did you bring me here.? What devil made 

you pick on to-night .? 
HAL — {tenderly) — Her devil . 



[130] 



The Silent Waiter 



JIM — {dangerously) — Could you do such a thing? — do 

you hate her now ? — was it revenge ? 
HAL — {bluntly) — Don't invoke the villain. Such words 

aren't in my hne. 
JIM — They are — in your smooth way — you may have 

other words for them — but they're the same — the 

motive behind them the same! Didn't you bring 

me here? 
HAL — Yes. 

JIM — Didn't you get me to drink.? — 
HAL — That's nothing new — 
JIM — And then tell me all this — in a slow, sneaking 

way? Didn't you have trouble telling me? You 

didn't tell me at once? 
HAL — Fire away. 
JIM — You were hiding it — hiding something — you might 

have told me before — months ago — before you 

took me there — 
HAL — Yes. 

JIM — But you didn't ? — 
HAL — No. 
JIM — You — 

HAL Stop! 

Their glances meet. HaVs is the steadier. 
Jim looks away, grief -stricken. 
JIM — Sorry — Hal. 

HAL — Don't. You had to have your storm. Had to 
hit somebody. I had mine — only worse. 
Jim shakes his head. 
JIM — Storms are no use. Not now. 
HAL — They are. {Jim shakes his head again.) Now we 
can think. 



[131 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



JIM — What good's thinking? It hasn't done you any. 

HAL — Not yet. 

JIM — When will it ? 

HAL — (significantly) — Mighty soon. 

JIM — When,? 

HAL — Thinking eventually leads to action — 

JIM — When.? 

HAL — When men — do it. 

Jim looks quickly at Hal. And as quickly away 
HAL — You see .? 
JIM — Yes. 
HAL — Am I wrong .? 
JIM — No. 

Hal thrusts two fingers into his vest pocket. 

Deliberately^ he takes out a phial and holds it at 
attention. Jim spies it; Hal lowers it. 
JIM — Christ! — What's that.? 
HAL — Action. 
JIM — What — now.? 
HAL — Yes. 

With a groan, Jim gropes for the table. 
HAL — You're not — afraid .? 
JIM — {brokenly) — No — but I hate — to go — 
HAL — Alone .? 
JIM — Yes. 

HAL — You'll not go — alone. 
JIM — Hal! 

His hand leaps out. Hal catches and holds it. 
Their heads are close. 
JIM — Then you still — love her.? 
HAL — Yes. 
JIM — The — impossible .? 

[132] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — Unattainable. 
JIM — And without it ? 
HAL — There's nothing. 
JIM — Like me ? 
HAL — Yes. 

Pause. Jim leans back. So does Hal. 
JIM — Tell me. 
HAL — Yes ? 
JIM — Why'd you not think of this — then .? Why did 

you — 
HAL — Wait ? 

Jim nods. 
HAL — It may sound heroic — fishy — 
JIM — What .? 

HAL — {with intensive monotone) — That I did it for her. 
JIM — This waiting.? 
HAL — Yes. 

Jim stares at him, searches his face, gently with- 
draws his hand. 
JIM — Then — it — is — 

Hal smiles and shakes his head. 
JIM — Why'd you wait so long — take me there first — and 

never go there yourself — without me — and even 

that only a little.? And keep silence so long — let 

us two go so far — wait until the very last .? — 
HAL — I said — for her — 
JIM — Yes, but in Christ's name — why.? 
HAL — That she — so to speak — might learn — have time to 

learn — that in losing me, dropping me — she was 

losing herself. 
JIM — By why now — why not then .? 
HAL — She needed proof of the same order — a recru- 



133 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



descence of the search and discovery — that her 

love for a man is love of herself. 
JIM— Me? 
HAL — Yes. 
JIM — Why me .? 
HAL — Because you're the only other thing I loved — the 

only other I could regard worthy the lesson she 

needs and deserves. 
JIM — I was worthy of her ? 
HAL — Yes. 

Jim smiles. 
JIM — Thanks. 
HAL — You see ? 
JIM — I think so — 

HAL — That losing us both — she'll learn — 
JIM — What love is .? — 
HAL — Yes. 
JIM — But suppose she doesn't — even after us — suppose 

it isn't in her.? 
HAL — I think it is. If it isn't — well, the gods have erred 

again. 
JIM — I'm sure it's in her. But — 
HAL — Yes ? 
JIM — The experience — oh how I envy the man! — will go 



HAL — One we needn't begrudge! 

JIM — No .? 

HAL — Wont we be a part of their world. f" 

JIM — The stars .? 

HAL — The earth. 

JIM — I see. 

Hal smiles. So does Jim. 

[134] 



The Silent Waiter 



JIM — Let's order another bottle — 

HAL — Pint ? — 

JIM — No, quart this time — 

HAL — We wont need a quart ? — 

JIM — Only a sip! Trust you for that! 

They laugh quietly. 
HAL — Well? 
JIM — This one's on me! 
HAL — Agreed. 
JIM — I say there — Waiter — Waiter! Is the fellow gone 

deaf? 
HAL — No — but he must be dumb. Here he comes. 

The waiter reappears. 
JIM — Another pint, please. 

The waiter turns away . 
HAL — One moment. Will you bring the bill with you ? 

The waiter bows and goes. 
HAL — He hears all and says nothing! 
JIM — How do we settle ? 
HAL — That item's almost our last. We'll pay him right 

away — 
JIM — Have you any other debts? 
HAL — No — have you ? 
JIM — None. 
HAL — Solvent, eh? 
JIM — Trial balance! 

They laugh. 
JIM — And our feudal estates .? — bonds .? — holdings ? — 
HAL — Such as they are ? 

They laugh. 
JIM — We haven't made our wills — 
HAL — True — but let's not deprive our relatives, in the 



35 1 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



order of legal precedence, of the fun of hunting 
drawers — 
JIM — Poor Aunt Emily — what a shock! 
HAL — Nobody much to fight for my books — except rats. 
JIM — Hal! 

HAL — What's wrong now ? 

JIM — How about her ? To think I could forget — 
HAL — Don't flare up again. You haven't forgotten. In 
an experience like this — so utterly new — we're 
bound to bungle a bit — 
JIM — But think of her, think of her — to-morrow — ^wait- 
ing!— 
HAL — We wont be crude, melodramatic — though we do 
cheat society of a piquant denouement — and 
the reporters — 
JIM — Good Christ — stop! 
HAL — Stop yourself. We've got to consider these last 

behests — with an eye to logic, not hysteria. 
JIM — But what of her.? 

HAL — It'll be a crash, of course. But the more so the 
^ better. The sooner her self-love will shatter. 

And the sooner that happens — 
JIM — Yes .? 

HAL — The sooner her new era will have its chance. 
JIM — God help her to it quickly. 
HAL — I'm with you. 

Pause. 
JIM — But how to forestall to-morrow.? How'll she 

understand .? 
HAL — We'll send her a line. She'll see. 
JIM — Telegram .? — 
HAL — That'd be brutal. 



[136 



The Silent Waiter 



JIM — How then ? 

HAL — We'll indite the line here and send it by mes- 
senger — 
JIM — Can we get one here ? 
HAL — Yes. Why not our friend ? 
JIM — Which friend ? 
HAL — The waiter. 
JIM — Are you crazy .? 
HAL — Why not ? He's probably a night waiter — though 

I've never seen him before. He may be new here — 

he's so slow and awkward — he must be. If he's on 

duty nights, he's off during the day. Why not ask 

him.? 
JIM — If you're sure he can be trusted .? — 
HAL — It's a child's job. And we'll tip him handsomely. 

He'd go to Walla Walla for that. Withered 

though he is. 
JIM — Here he comes, slower than ever. 
HAL — With his obsequious air. 

The waiter reappears — with the new bottle and the 
bill. 
HAL — Set that down and give me the bill. 

The waiter obeys. Hal reaches down into a trouser 
pocket. 

JIM — Hold on — this last bottle's mine. 
HAL — That's at the bottom. One peso. 
JIM — I'm getting off easy this time. 
HAL — Your treat next inning. 

They laugh , and pay the waiter. He bows. 
HAL — Here's something for your trouble. 

The waiter takes the tip, bows again and turns. 

[137] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — One moment. 

The waiter stops . 
HAL — Are you a night waiter here ? 

He bows. 
HAL — You're off during the day ? 

He bows. 
HAL — In the morning ? 

He bows. 
HAL — Evidently you're not deaf? That wont hurt you 

any. Dumb though, eh.? That's it then — ^well — 

you wont hurt anybody else much, will you? 

{To Jim) — Got a smile out of him that time — 

didn't I, Waiter.? 

He bows. 
HAL — Listen. We want you to do a very particular 
errand for us . Will you .? 

He bows. 
HAL — That's a good chap. We want you to take a letter 

for us — as early in the morning as you can — say, 

not later than noon — can you then.? — 

He bows. 
HAL — To a certain party — not very far from here. You're 
sure you can do it .? 
He bows and holds out his hand. 
HAL — It isn't ready yet. You'll have to come back for it. 

In ten minutes or so — at the end of this bottle — 

we'll call you. 

He bows. 
HAL — We'll look after you snugly. Does that intrigue 
you.? 

He bows. 
HAL — All right, sir. Don't forget. 

[138] 



The Silent Waiter 



The waiter bows and goes. 
HAL — Queer, eh? 
JIM — Yes. 

HAL — A most appropriate and satisfying agent. 
JIM — You're queer yourself. 
HAL — Why not.? This is delicious. One might as well 

enjoy it while one has it .? 
JIM — To the dregs. 

Hal laughs. 
HAL — We may not reach the dregs this time. 
JIM — One little sip, eh.? 
HAL — One little one. 

They laugh. 
JIM— Well.? 
HAL — You're ready .? 

Jim nods. 
HAL — The note first. 
JIM — Oh yes. What shall we say.? 
HAL — One line enough .? 
JIM — Three stark monosyllables! 
HAL — Excellent! 
JIM — What do we write on .? 
HAL — I've thought of that. 
JIM — That too.? Ye gods! 

Hal takes an envelope from his coat pocket and hands 
it to Jim. 
JIM — Addressed! What a man! 

He removes the paper. 
HAL — That part's yours. 
JIM — Thanks. 
HAL — Got a pen .? 
JIM — No. 



139] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — You'll never do! You're criminally careless! 

He pulls out a fountain-pen and holds it out to Jim. 
Jim takes it, writes a little awkwardly, and then stops and 
studies the paper. 
HAL — Have you signed it ? 

Jim signs quickly and passes paper and pen to Hal. 
Hal signs with a careful hand. They lean over the paper. 
HAL — Looks nice, eh? 

JIM — Yours is firmer than mine — more practiced — 
HAL — But yours is more — what shall I call it ? — vision- 
ary? 
JIM — Call it — blind. 

They lean back. Hal puts the letter into the envelope, 
which he seals and lays on the table with a banknote. 
JIM — A ten-spot ? That'll help him find the letter! 
HAL — And now ? 

JIM — Fill them up — no, wait — let me do it this time. 
HAL — Your hand steady ? 
JIM — Watch me. How much? 
HAL — All the way as usual. 

They laugh. Hal holds out his glass. Jirns boast 
isnt vain, although he pours a little too much. 
HAL — You've spilled some over — 
JIM — Will that hurt now? 

They laugh. Jim fills his own glass. 
HAL — Didn't pour too much that time! 
JIM — No! Second trial! 
HAL — What's that mean ? 
JIM — Nothing. 

Jim holds out his glass to HaVs. 
HAL — You're in a hurry. 
JIM — Why not ? 

[140] 



The Silent Waiter 



HAL — The situation waxeth redundant ? 

JIM — Ad nauseam. 

HAL — Mustn't spill that, eh? 

JIM — No. 

Hal opens the phial and pours several drops into 
Jim's glass, and then into his own. He raises his glass; so 
does Jim. Roguery flickers at mouth corners. 
HAL — Any toast .? 
JIM — Several. 
HAL — Plural, eh? 
JIM — Plural. 

HAL — Better say them all in a row? 
JIM — Much better. 
HAL — Will you give them ? 
JIM — No, you. 
HAL — Let's take turns. 
JIM — All right — begin. 
HAL — After you, Jim. 
JIM — ^Thanks, Hal. 

Slowly, somewhat after the fashion of a ritual, but 
with exquisite cheerfulness, they take turns intoning and 
echoing toasts, between each of which, their glasses caress, 
rather than clink. 
JIM — To Stella — 
HAL — To Stella — 
HAL — To — a twinkling star — 
JIM — To a twinkling star — 
JIM — To — the whole sky — 
HAL — To — the whole sky — 
HAL — To the earth — 
JIM — To the earth — 
JIM — Twinkle — little glass — 

[ 141 1 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



HAL — Twinkle, little glass — 
HAL — To — her — 
JIM — To — her — 

Pause. 
HAL — Any more ? 
JIM — Yes, just one. 
HAL — What is it ? 
JIM — {with an effort) — To — him. 
HAL — Good for you, old man. To him! 

Pause. 
HAL — Shake. 

They shake hands simply. 
HAL — So long — 
JIM — So long — 
HAL — Better luck next time — 
JIM — Same to you. 

They let go, and smile — a little tremulously. 
HAL — Ready.? 

JIM — Yes — God bless you — 
HAL — And you. 

The glasses clink this time. Jim raises his quickly — 
Hal his slowly. Hal watches Jim. They nod to each other. 
Jim starts to drink, without hesitation. The glass topples 
from him. Jim falls forward. Hal nods — shakes his head — 
and then follows Jim. One cannot see them. A longer 
pause. The waiter appears as before — in the same slow, 
mechanical way . He hows — no , leans forward — and stretches 
his hand up to the shade. In so doing, he bends over, and 
his head comes into view for the first time. It is {if it isn't a 
hallucination) — a death's head. The head disappears as the 
shade is slowly drawn down over the window. Curtain. 



[142] 



MONDAY 

A Lame Minuet 



To Six Ladies Bloom — 
zvho each loves her man- 
notwithstanding — 



MONDAY 

A Lame Minuet 



THE CHARACTERS 

MRS. JONES 

MRS. BROWN 

MRS. SMITH 

MRS. MEEK 

MRS. SNUB 

MRS. WEEDS 



One of the box-like landings of a New 
York tenement. There are three apartment doors — one in 
the left wall^ two in the rear — and a dumb-waiter door in the 
right. Nothing distinguishes the apartment doors, one from 
another, except three cell-like numerals and three sur-names 
— X, XI, XII — and Smith, Jones, Brown. A bannister 
connects the stairway to and from the floor below with the 
stairway to and from the floor above. Naturally, the stair- 
way below the level of the onlooker s eye cannot be seen; when 
somebody comes up onto the landing, he does so — head, torso, 
legs, feet — through an imaginary trap-door, passes across 
the front of the scene and ascends the other stairway to and 
through an imaginary trap-door in the ceiling. Coming 
down from the floor above and going down to the floor below , 
the sequence is perforce in the contrary order of feet, legs, 
torso, head. The carpenter should construct the visible stair- 

[I4S] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



way along narrow lines, with generous spaces between each 
step, and place it at the extreme left of the scene, so as to 
obstruct the view of the onlooker as little as possible. The 
fourth wall, front, is not in the least opaque. One must, as 
it were, and for the sake of what transpires, be able to see 
through it. 



X 



I XI 



XII 



JONES 

s 

M 

I Stairway 

T 

H 



BROWN 



Dumb-waiter 



Trap- 
Door 



While the play moves to a sort of folk prose 
there is an undercurrent rubato apprehending an amorphous 
minuet or scherzo movement in which the persistent voices of 
Mesdames Jones, Brown and Smith provide the main themes 
and the interrupting voices of Mesdames Meek, Snub and 
Weeds, the trios. The characters indulge a deal of uncon- 
scious turning about and posturing in the suggestion of a 
forgotten minuet. The steps are uneven, tentative — because 
one has forgotten the music, cannot quite recall it, even 
though one would like to. Moreover, one's partner is absent. 
Try beating the lines in three-quarter or preferably, six- 
eighth time. If you are ignorant of the fact, history will ad- 

[146] 



Monday 



vise you that the scherzo has superseded the minuet. Still 
better, throw away baton and history, and attend the literal 
present . 

Mrs. Jones emerges from Apartment XI. 
She is very tall and very thin. She carries a pail to the 
dumb-waiter shaft. The pail is tall and thin. Garbage 
bulges out. Mrs. Jones puts down the pail and opens the 
dumb-waiter door. As she gropes for and grasps the rope, 
most of her is hidden. The dumb-waiter can be heard bump- 
ing the sides of the shaft. Mrs. Brown emerges from Apart- 
ment XII . She is very short and very stout, and of course 
her pail as well. Mrs. Jones' voice is soprano, Mrs. 
Brown s bass. 

MRS. BROWN — Good moming to you, Mrs. Jones. 
MRS. JONES — Good morning yourself, Mrs. Brown. 

Mrs. Brown sets down her pail and mops 
her face with her apron. The up and down motion of Mrs. 
Jones and the grunt of the rope beat time to the ensuing 
speech. 

MRS. BROWN — It's you that's here first this time. 
MRS. JONES — It is, but that's not to my credit. 
MRS. BROWN — Let me give you a hand, I'm stronger. 
MRS. JONES — I'm leaner — it's easier for me. 
MRS. BROWN — Indeed, holes like that should be bigger, 
or ropes like that nearer for women 
like me. 
MRS. JONES — It's a man-sized job this pulling and haul- 
ing away like a seaman asail. 
MRS. BROWN — Men are softies these days, it's a woman's. 
MRS. JONES — It is when a janitor's a loafer. 
MRS. BROWN — Think of his lazy hide — 
MRS. JONES — Down below on a chair — - 

[147] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. BROWN — With his back to the boiler — 

MRS. JONES — His feet on the furnace — 

MRS. BROWN — His pipe in his mouth — 

MRS. JONES — His hands in his pockets. 

MRS. BROWN — Men are women these days, I'm telHng 

you. 
MRS. JONES — My very own husband is one, ril confess. 
MRS. BROWN — I'm telHng you more — it's my husband 

too. 
MRS. JONES — Letting frail women do grown men's 

work — 
MRS. BROWN — While they straddle chairs on trucks or in 

banks! 
Mrs. Jones has stopped pulling. Mrs. 
Brown joins her. They shout derision down the shaft. 
MRS. JONES — Hey there! 
MRS. BROWN — Mr. Binns! 
MRS. JONES — Mr. Janitor! 
MRS. BROWN — Mr. President! 

Except for the echoes — silence. Mrs. Smith 
emerges from Apartment X followed by two small children 
carrying bundles and empty milk bottles. Her person and 
pail are a genial compromise between the person and pail, 
respectively J of Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Brown. 
MRS. SMITH — Good-morning, ladies. 
OTHERS — Good-morning, Mrs. Smith. 

MRS. SMITH — What's all the to-do.? — 
MRS. JONES — About nothing — 
MRS. SMITH — Nothing? — 
MRS. BROWN — Men — 
MRS. SMITH — What men — .? 
MRS. JONES — Husbands in general — 



[148 



Monday 



MRS. 


BROWN — 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 



Janitors in particular — 

Oh! 

You agree — ? 

I most certainly do! 

Women need one another these days. 

You were here first this time, Mrs. Jones ? 

I was, Mrs. Smith — 

Let me give you a hand — 

Thanks, but it's up now — 

I'd have been here myself, but I'm wash- 
ing— 
MRS. BROWN — I'd have been here too, but I'm washing 
myself — it's that makes me sweat 
Hke a stoker. 
MRS. SMITH — I've these small creatures besides, yank- 
ing at me, like thread on a spool. 

The children huddle behind her. 
MRS. BROWN — Luckily mine are grown up and at school. 
MRS. JONES — Lucky you two to have any at all. 
MRS. BROWN — Don't talk, Mrs. Jones. 
MRS. SMITH — Your time will come — 
MRS. BROWN — And you not say, lucky — 
MRS. SMITH — A man's more than enough — 
MRS. JONES — He's that after Sunday — 
MRS. BROWN — With the next day Monday — 
MRS. SMITH — Wash-day and what-not — 
MRS. JONES — Tubs hotter than cinders — 
MRS. BROWN — Steam thicker than devils — 
MRS. SMITH — The very saints would melt in! 
MRS. JONES — I put mine off as long as I can — 
MRS. BROWN — There's less washing for you — 
MRS. SMITH — That complain being barren. 

[149] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. JONES — Yes, but I'm thinner, I've got to go 
slower — heat makes me thinner faster than 
you. 

You're to be envied — 
Not to be pitied! 

Mrs. Jones lifts her pail with both hands. 
Can I give you a hand ? 
Thank you — I'm used to this. 
She lifts the pail onto the dumb-waiter. 
BROWN — Think of the pails that thing takes. 

SMITH - 
BROWN 
JONES - 



MRS. BROWN 
MRS. SMITH - 

OTHERS 

MRS. JONES - 



MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 



OTHERS 

MRS. JONES 

MRS. SMITH 



Three families on a floor- 
And each of them large- 
Except mine — 
Lucky you! 
{emerging) — Each pail 

goose — 
And families 



stuffed like a 



ike mine with more than one 
pail — and bottles and bundles and boxes 
besides. 

MRS. JONES — The smell of that stuff — 
no matter the food — 
is ever the same — who's next ? 

MRS. BROWN — After you, Mrs. Smith — 

MRS. SMITH — You wetc secoud, Mrs. Brown — 

MRS. BROWN — But you havc the children — 

MRS. SMITH — Brats — 

MRS. JONES — Darhngs — 

MRS. SMITH — Where are you, you two.? 

The children suddenly appear, rush to the 

dumb-watier, deposit the bundles and bottles , reappear y and 

then rush back into Apartment X. 

MRS. JONES — Happy they — 

[ISO] 



Monday 



MRS. SMITH — Unhappy me — 

MRS. JONES — One looks so like its mother, 

the other so like its father — 
MRS. BROWN — Equally blessed — 
MRS. SMITH — Unequally damned — 
MRS. BROWN — I get what you mean — 
MRS. JONES — I don't, Mrs. Brown — 
MRS. SMITH — You will, Mrs. Jones — 
MRS. BROWN — And now, Mrs. Smith? — 
MRS. SMITH — After you, mam! 

Mrs. Brown encounters considerable dif- 
ficulty with the performance of pail and dumb-waiter . 
OTHERS — Can I give you a hand ? 

MRS. BROWN — Not at this job — it helps me reduce — 

bending and stretching squeezes out fat — 
MRS. SMITH — You're not that — 
MRS. BROWN — Thanks, Mrs. Smith. 

She emerges with a profound sigh. Mrs. 
Smith has moderate difficulty with the rite. 
MRS. SMITH — This Stuff, as you say, has its smell, Mrs. 

Jones — 
MRS. JONES — Its stench, I should say — 
MRS. BROWN — Fine words don't improve it — 
MRS. SMITH — And no matter the food — 
MRS. JONES — One can't grow used to it. 
MRS. BROWN — What was your Sunday dinner? 
MRS. JONES — Roast ham, apple sauce, 

potatoes and peas — 
MRS. BROWN — Roast lamb, caper sauce, 

potatoes and beans — 
MRS. SMITH — Roast bccf, brown gravy, 

potatoes and squash — 

[iSi] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. JONES — And dessert? — 

MRS. BROWN — And dessert — 

MRS. SMITH — And dessert! 

MRS. JONES — All three were good dinners — 

MRS. BROWN — All three meant much labor — 

MRS. SMITH — All three meant more garbage. 

MRS. JONES — What's the good of a Sunday.? 

MRS. BROWN — It's the day of rest — for a man — 

MRS. SMITH — The hardest day for a woman — 

MRS. JONES — Except Monday — 

MRS. BROWN — The day of retribution. 

MRS. SMITH — No matter the meat, the greens, the 

sweets — 
MRS. JONES — Monday's the same and smells the same — 
MRS. BROWN — But the bigger the meat, the greens," the 

sweets — 
MRS. SMITH — Theheaviertheloadof the pails and pails. 
MRS. BROWN — And the day of clothes to wash — 
MRS. JONES — Where's it all come from.'' 
MRS. SMITH — And the day of dust to sweep — 
MRS. JONES — Where's it all go.? 
MRS. BROWN — And of sewing and mending — 
MRS. SMITH — What good's it all do.? 
MRS. JONES — With next Monday the same, and the 

next! 
MRS. BROWN — A woman's an angel — 
MRS. SMITH — Sewing her wings — 
MRS. BROWN — Mending her husband's. 
MRS. JONES — If it wasn't for Sunday — 
MRS. BROWN — Monday'd be lighter — 
MRS. SMITH — If it wasn't for his bigger dinner — 
MRS. JONES — Monday's garbage'd be smaller — 

[152] 



Monday 



MRS. BROWN — It's not the children — 
MRS. SMITH — So much — 
MRS. JONES — As the men — 
MRS. BROWN — It's the men — 
MRS. JONES — As you say — 
MRS. SMITH — We all say! 

Mrs. Smith looks from behind the door. 

The three exchange nods. 

Anything else to go down .? 



MRS. SMITH — 

OTHERS 

MRS. SMITH 



No, blessed be the Lord- 



to lower the dumb- 



Be the devil! 
Mrs. Smith begins 
waiter. As before, the metronome. 
OTHERS — Can I give you a hand .? 

MRS. SMITH — Going down's easier. 
MRS. BROWN — God's gracc on that! — 
MRS. JONES — Saves us marching down — 

SMITH — Garbage indeed is less evil than food — 
JONES — That we march up 

one flight, two flights, three — 
BROWN — Long, heavy flights — 
SMITH — Though it might be all four — 
JONES — You're an optimist, mam — 
SMITH — Well, mightn't we be? — 
JONES — The women above .^ — 
BROWN — Mrs. Meek, Mrs. Snub, Mrs. Weeds.? 

One more flight would reduce me com- 
plete — 
Three are enough for a woman that's 

thin — 
With her arms clutching bundles — 
Three, maybe four times a day! 

[153] 



MRS. 
MRS. 

MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 
MRS. 



MRS. JONES 



MRS. 
MRS. 



SMITH — 
BROWN - 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SMITH — It's the men ought to do it — 

MRS. BROWN — They sitting in offices — 

MRS. JONES — On top of trucks — 

MRS. SMITH — Or on Stools chopping tickets! 

MRS. BROWN — Yours Still chopping.? — 

MRS. SMITH — Yes — yours still a clerk.? — 

MRS. BROWN — Adding sums any fool could add — 

MRS. JONES — And mine drives his truck — 

with his clay in his month — 
MRS. BROWN — Like our janitor — 
MRS. SMITH — Who ought to be down below — 
MRS. JONES — Pulling the rope for you — 
MRS. SMITH — Blessed be — there's an end — 
MRS. JONES — Even to ropes — 
MRS. BROWN — To hanging! 
MRS. SMITH — It's the men! 
OTHERS — It's the men! 

Mrs. Smith comes out and shuts the door. 
She faces the others, arms akimbo. They imitate .her. 
Pause. 
MRS. SMITH — Shall I tell you a secret.? 

They draw closer. 
OTHERS — Tell us. 

MRS. SMITH — Can you keep it.? — 
MRS. BROWN — Like an oyster — 
MRS. JONES — A clam. 
MRS. SMITH — My man's no longer content — 

with the food I feed him — 

that I climb our stairs with — 

prepare for him, cook for him — 

lay under his nose! 
MRS. BROWN — That's no secret — 



[154] 



Monday 



MRS. SMITH — Eh? 

MRS. JONES — That's just like mine — 

MRS. SMITH — Mine says yesterday — 

sweet-like and cute-like — 

'Do they slaughter nothing now 

but beef at the butcher's .?' 

MRS. BROWN — Mine was still cuter, 

perking and piping up — 
'What's become of 
chickens and geese — 
have they grown out-of-date .?' 

MRS. JONES — 'You don't have to prove 

to my palate' — says mine — 
'that a pig has disguises — 
I know them as well 
as I know you, my dear!' 

MRS. SMITH — They're a trio — 

MRS. BROWN — They're that — 

MRS. JONES — They'd go in a choir — 

MRS. SMITH — They're good enough — 

MRS. BROWN — Innocent — 

MRS. JONES — The cherubs! 

MRS. SMITH — What'll we do about them.? 

MRS. BROWN — What'll we do? 

MRS. JONES — What'll we do? 

MRS. SMITH — Do you kuow of anything? 

MRS. BROWN Do yOU ? 

MRS. JONES — Do you? 

MRS. SMITH — Have you thought about it? 

MRS. BROWN — Have you ? 

MRS. JONES — Have you? 

MRS. SMITH — Not by myself — 

[IS5] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. BROWN Nor I 

MRS. JONES — Nor I. 

MRS. SMITH — But now that there's — 

MRS. BROWN — Three of us — 

MRS. JONES — Three of us — 

MRS. SMITH — We can put our heads together — 

MRS. BROWN — Come closer — 

MRS. JONES — Yes, closer — 

MRS. SMITH — And fix them — 
OTHERS — Fix them. 

MRS. SMITH — Anybody'd think my man's an alder- 
man — 

MRS. BROWN — Mine's a congressman — 

MRS. JONES — Mine's a senator — 

MRS. SMITH — With five thousand a year — 

MRS. BROWN — Ten — 

MRS. JONES — Twenty! 

MRS. SMITH — What'll we do about them.? 

MRS. BROWN — What'll we ? 

MRS. JONES — What'll we.? 

MRS. SMITH — Do you know of anything? 

MRS. BROWN Do yOU .? 

MRS. JONES — Do you? 

MRS. SMITH Sh! 

OTHERS Sh! 

MRS. SMITH — There's somebody — 
MRS. BROWN — Coming up — 
MRS. JONES — The Stairs! 

They separate stealthily and retreat to their 
doors. A woman gradually comes up through the trap- 
door. She carries several small bundles. 
MRS. SMITH — Ah, Mrs. Meek — 



[156 



Monday 



OTHERS 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


MEEK 


TRIO 


— 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


TRIO 





MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


MEEK 


TRIO 


— 


MRS. 


MEEK — 


TRIO 


— 


MRS. 


MEEK — 


TRIO 


— 



It's only Mrs. Meek- 
Yes, only me. 
They gather about her. 
Still climbing mountains .? — 
Or golden stairs } 
Vm. trying to catch up — 
With your vision of God } — 
My sight of food prices ! 
Oh! 

Set down your bundles and rest. 
I need no rest from these — they're little, 
They don't look over heavy. 
Bologna, salad, rolls, tea. 
What may they be for.? 
My lunch and my man's 
after washing and sweeping — 
Ah! 

Bundles used to be bigger — 
when my man had his job — 
lugging hod up skyscrapers. 
He's still out of sky-work .? 
Lets you do the housework.? 
Lets you tramp up and down stairs .? 
In and out of closets .? — 
Out of stoves .? — 
Out of tubs .? 
He has to — 
Has to .? — 

He's still sick a-bed — 
Oh! 

That's how he lost his job — 
Of course. 



[157] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. MEEK — Got the lumbago and all — 
MRS. SMITH — I see — 
MRS. BROWN — To be sure — 

MRS. JONES Just so. 

MRS. MEEK — My boy has a job — 

but what they pay him 
doesn't pay prices — 
pays them one day — 
but the next day can't — 
they've jumped up again — 

MRS. SMITH Out of sight 

MRS. BROWN — Now you sec them — 

MRS. JONES — Now you don't. 

MRS. MEEK — I says to the grocer — 

MRS. SMITH — The thief — don't I know him.? — 

MRS. MEEK — And to the baker — 

MRS. BROWN — Don't I kuow that deceiver.? — 

MRS. MEEK — And to the fishman — 

MRS. JONES — That back-sHding crab! — 

MRS. MEEK — What's to bccome of us all 

with you all poking up prices .? 
MRS. SMITH — What did they say.? — 
MRS. BROWN — What blarney.? — 
MRS. JONES — What gas.? 
MRS. MEEK — What's to bccomc of US all 

with you all unable to pay them .? 
MRS. SMITH — That's nice of them — 
MRS. BROWN — Sweet of them — 
MRS. JONES — Thoughtful. 
MRS. MEEK — It's hard enough for us 

to get Stuff to sell, 

let alone you, mam, to buy it. 

[158] 



Monday 



MRS. SMITH — Doesn't it grow any more? 

MRS. BROWN — Are the cows all dead.? 

MRS. JONES — The grass all gone.? 

MRS. SMITH — The earth quit sending up greens.? 

MRS. BROWN — The sea up fishes .? 

MRS. JONES — The trees down fruit .? 

MRS. MEEK — They don't say that — 

MRS. SMITH — They don't, eh.? — 

MRS. BROWN — Don't they.? — 

MRS. JONES — The dears.? 

MRS. MEEK — But they do say — 

MRS. SMITH — They do, eh.? — 

MRS. BROWN — Do they.? — 

MRS. JONES — The lambs.? 

MRS. MEEK — Sugar's two cents higher to-day — 

MRS. SMITH — Butter's three — 

MRS. BROWN Eggs four 

MRS. JONES — Cheese five — 

MRS. MEEK — Milk — 

MRS. SMITH — Yes, milk — 

MRS. BROWN — Yes, yes, milk? — 

MRS, SMITH — For milk we'll have to — 

MRS, BROWN — Go back to our own — 

MRS. SMITH — If we have any left — 

MRS. JONES — Any children to nurse — 

MRS. BROWN — That aren't grown up — 

MRS. JONES — Or have any coming! 

MRS. MEEK — It's uot aloue climbing stairs — 

MRS, SMITH — It's chmbing shopkeepers — 

MRS. BROWN — And consider the stuff 

they're so good as to sell — 
MRS. JONES — Skimpy here — skimpier there — 

[159] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


TRIO 


— 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


Stairs. 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


MEEK 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


BROWN - 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 



Little meat on it — 

Mostly fat — 

Mostly bones! 

And shall zue tell you^ Mrs. Meek.? — 

What, Mrs. Smith.?— 

The secret.? — 

The secret .? 

Lumbago or no lumbago — 

Lumbago or no lumbago? — 

It's our husbands — 

we have to climb! 

Husbands .? 

Husbands! 

If they weren't so lazy — 

(indignantly) — Mine isn't that! — 

So good for nothing whatsoever — 

But lounging on chairs — 

Or lying in beds — 

Mrs. Meek draws away and starts for the 

How dare you.? 

We dare anything — 

Everything — 

And then something! 

Run along, Mrs. Meek — 

There's but one more flight — 

You're not far from Heaven — 

What are you up to .? 

We'll tell you some time — 

Come and see us to-morrow — 

Or Wednesday — 

You wont find us climbing husbands — 

[160] 



Monday 



MRS. BROWN — Nor they climbing us — 
MRS. JONES — Nor children either. 

Mrs. Meek begins to edge up the stairs. 
MRS. MEEK — Are you daft? 
MRS. SMITH — No, mine's an alderman — 
MRS. BROWN — Mine a congressman — 
MRS. JONES — Mine a senator — 
MRS. SMITH — But you wont see us — 
MRS. BROWN — Climbing presidents — 
MRS. JONES — Or kings — 
MRS. SMITH — Or emperors! 
MRS. MEEK — Good moming! 
MRS. SMITH — Good morning — 
OTHERS — Mrs. Meek! 

Mrs. Meek vanishes. Mesdames Brown 
and Jones consult Mrs. Smith. 
MRS. BROWN — What are we up to.? 
MRS. JONES — Yes, what are we.? — 
MRS. SMITH — That woman's soft — 
MRS. BROWN — Of course, but — 
MRS. JONES — To be sure, but — 
MRS. SMITH — She's one of your faithful — 
MRS. BROWN — One of your doting — 
MRS. JONES — One of your knee-benders — 
MRS. SMITH — She hasn't the blood — 
MRS. BROWN — The backbone — 
MRS. JONES — The spine — 
MRS. SMITH — To go ou Strike! 
MRS. BROWN — On Strike } 
MRS. JONES — On strike.? 
MRS. SMITH — Like us women! 
MRS. BROWN — Us womeu .? 



[i6i] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. JONES - 
MRS. SMITH - 
MRS. BROWN 
MRS. JONES - 
MRS. SMITH - 

OTHERS 

MRS. SMITH - 
OTHERS — 
MRS. SMITH - 
OTHERS — 
MRS. SMITH - 

MRS. BROWN 
MRS. JONES - 
MRS. SMITH - 

OTHERS 

MRS. SMITH - 
OTHERS — 
MRS. SMITH - 
OTHERS 

say nothing. 

MRS. SMITH - 



MRS. BROWN 
MRS. JONES - 
MRS. SMITH - 



— Is that what we're up to.? 

— Isn't it ? 

— {doubtfully) — I suppose so — 

— Suppose SO. 

— {aggressively) — Well .? 
Well? 

— What's happened to you .'* 
To US? 

— Have you pulled in your horns ? 
N— no. 

— Then why do you stand there — 
like apes — like frogs .? — 

— Apes ? — 

— Frogs .? — 

— Doing nothing — 
Nothing.? — 

— With your mouths open — 
Open .? — 

— Open — saying — nothing! 
Eh? 

Pause. The two mouths actually open and 
Mrs. Smith explodes with ironic oratory. 

— It's not my husband's name I've taken — 
I was a Smith when he took me from 

home — 
his cousin — if you must know. 

— What does — 

— That mean? 

— It means that the Smiths 
are more plentiful 

than the Browns or the Joneses — 
it means that the Smiths 



162 



Monday 



OTHERS — 
MRS. SMITH - 
MRS. BROWN 
MRS. SMITH - 
MRS. JONES - 
MRS. SMITH - 



MRS. BROWN 

MRS. SMITH - 

MRS. BROWN 

MRS. SMITH - 



MRS. JONES — 



rule America — 

it means that the Smiths 

don't give in to anybody — 

don't crook their knees 

to kings or to presidents — 

it means that the Smith woman — 

the bravest in Christendom — 

doesn't turn yellow for any man — 

not even her husband! 

Oh! 

It means the Browns do — 

It doesn't! — 

It means the Joneses do — 

It does not! — 

Mister Brown, the congressman — 

your little clerk with his little figures — 

figures he adds for a boss — 

minus the miserable wage he pays — 

Worse than miserable — 

That clerk airs himself — 

Like a prime minister — 

Him roasting what you set before him — 

calling for chickens and geese 

when it's ham you yanked from 

the oven — burning yourself to cinders! 

him with his wage — 

it's that makes it ham — not chicken! — 

him lifting his nose — 

you bending yours! 

And mine — 

my Mister Senator — 

him gracing a truck all day, 

[163] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



with nought but a horse 

as dumb as himself to drive — 

fancying himself higher than Caesar — 

on five dollars a day! — 

him expecting me 

to show him squab 

and pheasant and quail 

on five dollars a day 

and no sign of a raise! 
MRS. SMITH — You see, Mrs. Brown.? — 
MRS. BROWN — Of course I see — 
MRS. SMITH — Mrs. Jones does — 
MRS. BROWN — Of course she does — 
MRS. SMITH — She's smarter than you — 
MRS. BROWN — She's not! — 

MRS. SMITH — Much! — 

MRS. BROWN — Not much! 

Mrs. Brown squares off. So does Mrs. 
Smith. 
MRS. BROWN — Well, mam.? 

MRS. SMITH — You'll do. 

MRS. BROWN — Much obHged. 
MRS. JONES — How about me.? 

MRS. SMITH You too. 

MRS. JONES — Much obliged. 
MRS. BROWN — But how about you.? 

MRS. SMITH Who.? 

MRS. BROWN — You, Mts. Smith.? 
MRS. SMITH — How dare you.? 

MRS. BROWN — (hotly) — I dare anything — everything! — 
how about you and your talk — 

[164] 



Monday 



talking like a lord over me and Mrs. 

Jones ? — 
what about you and your man — 
him with his alderman gait — 
on a ticket-chopper salary — 
what about that — will you please tell us 
that ? 

MRS. SMITH — Eh? 

MRS. BROWN — How about you feeding him on that.? — 
we don't talk big, we talk small — 
you ask us what we're up to — 
now it's us asking you — 
a Brown of the tribe of Brown — 
it's me asking you — 
a Smith of the Smiths — 
rulers of the earth — 
what are you going to do .? — 
tell us two — 

Mrs. Jones of the Joneses — 
not rulers of the earth — 
and me of the Browns — 
not even rulers of Avenue A — 
what are you going to do 
that we can't do .? Anything ? 

MRS. SMITH — Well. 

MRS. JONES — Well.? 

MRS. SMITH — I've got to think about it. 

OTHERS — So.? 

MRS. SMITH — I haven't thought of anything yet. 

OTHERS — Oh! 

MRS. SMITH — Have you.? 

MRS. BROWN — Have we .? 

[i6s] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. JONES — Have we? 

MRS. BROWN — That*s grand — 

MRS. JONES — Impudent! 

MRS. SMITH — This only came up to-day — 

MRS. BROWN — And it'll come up 

to-morrow and Wednesday, 
Thursday and Friday, 
Saturday, Sunday — 

MRS. JONES — And Monday again! 

MRS. BROWN — They'll scratch it on your gravestone — 

MRS. SMITH — What'll they scratch .? — 

MRS. BROWN — That when you get through 

lifting your garbage on elevators — 
which you do very nicely — 
and get through jawing us — 
which you do nicer still — 
trying to get us to strike — 
to turn against our husbands — 
leave them — ^jilt them — who knows .? 

MRS. SMITH — Mrs. Brown! 

MRS. BROWN — You'll crawl back to cell number ten, 
and your washing, dusting, sweeping, 
cooking, setting table, scrubbing, 
making your beds and unmaking them — 

MRS. SMITH — Mrs. Brown! 

MRS . BROWN — Without SO much as a chirp or a whimper — 

MRS. SMITH — Madam! 

MRS. BROWN — Madam ? 

MRS. SMITH — You're a liar! 

MRS. BROWN — So are you! 

Mrs. Jones, whose reach is fortunately 

much longer than her neighbors', interposes as they close. 



[i66 



Monday 



MRS. SMITH — I'd have pulled your hair out — 

MRS. BROWN — I'd have pulled yours could you spare it — 

MRS. JONES — Ladies! 

MRS. SMITH — Your rats would come out — 

MRS. BROWN — Your wig would come off — 

MRS. JONES — Ladies! 

Whether jrom exhaustion, or from lack of 
further initiative or invention, the ladies desist. 
MRS. JONES — I'm ashamed of you — 
MRS. SMITH — So am I — 
MRS. BROWN — Same here — 
MRS. SMITH — Sorry — 
MRS. BROWN — Sorry myself. 
MRS. JONES — We'll never conquer this way — 
MRS. SMITH — Not together — 
MRS. BROWN — Nor Separate. 

MRS. JONES — The men will rule us all our lives — 
MRS. SMITH — And all other women — 
MRS. BROWN — The rest of creation. 
MRS. JONES — Women have never stuck before — 
MRS. SMITH — Not very long — 
MRS. BROWN — Not loug cnough. 
MRS. JONES — Men stick together — 
MRS. SMITH — Like fleas — 
MRS. BROWN — Like lice. 
MRS. JONES — That's how they prevail — 
MRS. SMITH — They're cute — 
MRS. BROWN — Sly — 
MRS. JONES — Exactly! 
MRS. SMITH — Now, Mrs. Jones.? 
MRS. BROWN — What do you say.? 
MRS. JONES — Let me see. 

[167] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SMITH — Have you got it? — 

MRS. BROWN — Let's havc it! — 

MRS. JONES — Not yet — ^just a moment. 

OTHERS — Oh! 

MRS. JONES — Let me think — 

MRS. SMITH — Wait — 

MRS. BROWN — Don't think yet — 

MRS. JONES — Why.? 

MRS. SMITH — There's somebody else — 

MRS. BROWN — Coming — 

MRS. JONES — Up.? 

The women retreat as before. Another 
up through the trap-door. In some slight 
is better dressed than Mrs. Meek, and carries 
. She passes in front of the others, nods a 



woman comes 
variation, she 
larger bundles, 
little and — 

MRS. SNUB 

TRIO — 

MRS. SMITH — 

MRS. SNUB 

MRS. BROWN - 
MRS. SNUB — 
TRIO — 
MRS. SNUB — 



MRS. JONES — 
MRS. SNUB — 
TRIO — 
MRS. SNUB — 
TRIO — 



Good morning. 

Good morning, Mrs. Snub. 

She starts up the stairs. 

What's your hurry.? 

No special hurry. 

Is your man home already.? 

Mr. Snub never comes before noon. 

Oh! 

You'll excuse me — 

I haven't done my washing yet — 

and with Mr. Snub coming — 

You've got to hurry — 

You see.? 

We see. 

Good morning. 

Good morning, Mrs. Snub. 

[168] 



Monday 



Mrs . Snub vanishes . Open-mouthed pause . 
TRIO — Mister — Snub! 

MRS. SMITH — Did you ever hear — 

the like of that ? 
MRS. BROWN — Did you ever behold — 

such airs } 
MRS. JONES — She sweeps by — 

Hke a lady no less — 

MRS. SMITH A witch 

MRS. BROWN — On a broom! 

MRS. JONES — She's got climbing to do — 

OTHERS — Like us — 

MRS. JONES — A floor higher! 

MRS. SMITH — And washing to do — 

OTHERS — Like us — 

MRS. SMITH — Just as filthy as ours! 

MRS. BROWN — And cooking and garbage — 

OTHERS — Like us — 

MRS. BROWN — Yet she — gives herself — airs! 

MRS. SMITH — She thinks living above us 

is being above us — 
MRS. BROWN — That next to the roof 

is next to the sky — 

Next to God. 

Shall I tell you — 

The secret .? 

Do, Mrs. Smith!— 

Mrs. Smith, do! 

You know that her man's a bank clerk ? — 

Yes— 

That he works in the neighborhood .? — 

Yes, yes — 

[169] 



MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


BROWN — 


MRS. 


JONES 


MRS. 


SMITH 


OTHERS 


MRS. 


SMITH 


OTHERS 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SMITH — That that's why he comes — 
MRS. BROWN — At noon — 
MRS. JONES — Like a lord.? — 
MRS. BROWN — That's it.? — 

MRS. JONES — Is it.? — 

MRS. SMITH — It most Certainly is! 

Reflective pause. 
MRS. BROWN — Isn't onc clerk like another.? 

Isn't mine one as much as hers — 

though mine's a bill and hers a bank.? — 
MRS. JONES — And is a clerk 

higher than a driver .? — 
MRS. SMITH — Or a ticket chopper .? — 
MRS. BROWN — It's not I — would say so! 
MRS. SMITH — But she — 
MRS. JONES — Her ladyship — 
MRS. SMITH — She'd — 
MRS. JONES — Say — 

MRS. BROWN — So! 

MRS. SMITH — A bank's an institution — 

MRS. JONES — With tons of money in it — 

MRS. BROWN — More than anywhere else — 

MRS. SMITH — But what's Mr. Snub got[to do with it .?— 

MRS. JONES — It's not his — 

MRS. BROWN — It's the bank's — 

MRS. SMITH — The Stockholders' — 

MRS. JONES — The depositors'! 

MRS. SMITH — Though I and my man 

haven't a bank account — 
OTHERS — Not I and mine — 

MRS. SMITH — How should wc .? — 

OTHERS How.? 



170] 



Monday 



MRS. SMITH — The money in banks 

belongs to depositors — 
poor folk richer than us — 

MRS. BROWN — Not to bank clerks — 

MRS. JONES — Nor to bank clerks' ladies 
who give themselves airs — 

MRS. SMITH — Pass US ou the stairs — 

MRS. BROWN Bow 

MRS. JONES — And say, good morning. 
MRS. SMITH — One'd think him — 

upstairs in an attic — 

if you please — 

MRS. BROWN God 

MRS. JONES — Almighty — 
MRS. SMITH — Himself — 
MRS. BROWN — And her — 
MRS. JONES — Misses — 

MRS. SMITH — God — 

MRS. BROWN — Almighty! 

MRS. JONES — My man's no senator — 

though he is a truck driver — 

but he's my man — 

and as good as any other. 
MRS. SMITH — Better, Mrs. Jones — 
MRS. BROWN — Miles better — 
MRS. JONES — Thanks — so are yours — 

Mrs. Smith — Mrs. Brown! — 
MRS. SMITH — Alderman or no alderman — 
MRS. BROWN — Congressman or no congressman- 
MRS. SMITH — Chopper or no chopper — 
MRS. BROWN — Clerk or no clerk — 
MRS. JONES — Your men — 

[171] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. SMITH — Are miles better — 

MRS. BROWN — Than hers. 

MRS. SMITH — Do we give ourselves airs about it.? 

OTHERS — No! 

MRS. SMITH — But we don't — do we — 

look down on ourselves for it ? 
MRS. BROWN — I should say — 

MRS. JONES Not! 

MRS. SMITH — Not that we're proud — 

of cooking and garbage — 
MRS. BROWN — Washing and ironing — 
MRS. JONES — Sweeping and dusting — 
MRS. SMITH — Or complain — 
MRS. BROWN — Or grumble — 
MRS. JONES — Or balk — 
MRS. SMITH — Or praise our husbands for — 

MRS. BROWN For 

MRS. JONES — For — 

MRS. SMITH — Their low wages — 

MRS. BROWN — Or high wages either — 

MRS. JONES — Praise them or blame them — 

MRS. SMITH — Or blame them SO much — 

that it's them 

that give us 

our cooking and garbage — 
MRS. BROWN — Washing and ironing — 
MRS. JONES — Sweeping and dusting — 
MRS. SMITH — But at the same time — 
MRS. BROWN — And other times — 
MRS. JONES — All times — 
MRS. SMITH — Let's be careful — 
MRS. BROWN — Careful — 



[172 



Monday 



MRS. JONES — Ever so careful — 

MRS. SMITH — This might be a trap — 

MRS. BROWN — A snare — 

MRS. JONES — The devil behind it — 

MRS. SMITH — That woman the bait — , 

MRS. BROWN — The bacon — 

MRS. JONES — The cheese — 

MRS. SMITH — And US the lure — 

MRS. BROWN — The victims — 

MRS. JONES — The mice! 

MRS. SMITH — So let's think about — 

what we've been thinking about — 
MRS. BROWN — Go Straight on — 
MRS. JONES — Thinking about it — 
MRS. SMITH — And not be easy on men — 
MRS. BROWN — Overlook their faults — 
MRS. JONES — Their sins! 

MRS. SMITH — But — 
OTHERS — But — 

MRS. SMITH — Well, I don't know — 
OTHERS — You don't.? — 

MRS. SMITH — Do you, Mrs. Brown.? 
MRS. BROWN — Let me think — 
MRS. SMITH — You, Mrs. Jones.? — 
MRS. JONES — Let me! 

MRS. SMITH Well.? 

MRS. BROWN — Wait! 
MRS. JONES — Wait! 

MRS. SMITH Sh! 

OTHERS — What's that .? 

MRS. SMITH — Somebody's — 
MRS. BROWN — Coming.? — 

[173] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 



MRS. JONES — Up? 

MRS. SMITH — Down! 

They retire again. A woman comes slowly 
down the stairs. She is in mourning. The trio retire still 
farther. Slow colloquy. 
MRS. SMITH — It's you — Mrs. Wccds .? 

MRS. WEEDS Yes. 

MRS. SMITH — Wouldn't have — known you at first. 

MRS. BROWN — Where are you — bound for.'' 

MRS. WEEDS — The florist. 

MRS. JONES — How sad. 

OTHERS — So sad. 

MRS. SMITH — I only — heard about it — 

MRS. BROWN — Last night — 

MRS. JONES — My man — saw the crepe — 

MRS. SMITH — In the — vestibule — 

MRS. WEEDS (passing before them) — Yes.f* 

MRS. SMITH — Was it — 

MRS. BROWN — The influenza — 

MRS. JONES — Got him.? 

MRS. WEEDS Yes. 

MRS. SMITH — How terrible — 
MRS. BROWN — It's everywhere — 
MRS. JONES — These days — 

MRS. WEEDS — Yes.? 

MRS. SMITH — When — ^will it be.? 
MRS. WEEDS — Wednesday morning. 
MRS. SMITH — So sad. 
OTHERS — So sad. 

MRS. SMITH — May I — 
MRS. BROWN — Can I — 

MRS. JONES Could I 



[174 



Monday 



MRS. WEEDS — Thanks, friends, nothing. 

MRS. SMITH — Couldn't we — 

MRS. BROWN — Send up — 

MRS. JONES — Some flowers.^ 

MRS. WEEDS Yes. 

TRIO — Thanks. 

Mrs. Weeds descends slowly and vanishes. 
The trio have grasped door knobs. Whispered colloquy. 
MRS. SMITH — She's got — 
MRS. BROWN — Nobody — 

MRS. JONES Now. 

MRS. SMITH Not a soul 

MRS. BROWN To look 

MRS. JONES — After. 
MRS. SMITH — Poor man — 
OTHERS — Poor man — 

MRS. SMITH — Poor woman — 
OTHERS — Poor woman. 

Mrs. Smith comes forward excitedly. So 
do the others. Quickened tempo. 
MRS. SMITH — There's poor Mr. Weeds gone — 
MRS. BROWN — And poor Mr. Meek — 
MRS. JONES — Down with lumbago! 
MRS. SMITH — And it was only last night — 

my man had such a cough — 
MRS. JONES — I could hear him through our wall — 
MRS. SMITH — There's no knowing — 

what'll happen to a man — 

with the draughts he sits in on stations — 
MRS. JONES — A man on a truck — 

with the wind blowing — 

every which way — 

[175] 



Plays For Merry Andrews 


MRS. 


BROWN — Or a man — 




indoors all day — 




getting no air whatever — 




swallowing dust — germs — 


MRS. 


SMITH — The poor — 


MRS. 


BROWN — Poor — 


MRS. 


JONES — Dears! 


MRS. 


SMITH — What'll we do.? — 


MRS. 


BROWN — What'll we ? — 


MRS. 


JONES — What.? 


MRS. 


SMITH — Let me think — 


MRS. 


BROWN — Let me — 


MRS. 


JONES — Me! 



They stop — look at each other — stare . Sud- 
denly, from each apartment, the sound of a buzzer. 
TRIO — What's — that .? 

MRS. SMITH — Must be — 
MRS. BROWN — Mr. Binns — 
MRS. JONES — And the dumb-waiter. 

MRS. BROWN Who'll gO .? 

MRS. JONES — I've the chills — 
MRS. BROWN — The creeps — 

MRS. SMITH — I'll go. 

Mrs. Smith, followed by the others, goes to 
the dumb-waiter door and opens it. With evident relief, 
she shouts down the shaft. 
MRS. SMITH — Oh — Mr. Binns — a little higher! 

The rope creaks. 
MRS. SMITH — That'll do — 
MRS. BROWN — The dear man — 
MRS. JONES — He's always there — 
MRS. SMITH — So dependable! 

[176] 



Monday 



They take their pails, shut the door and 
retreat, rather than go, towards their apartments. 
MRS. SMITH — I must get to my washing — 
MRS. BROWN — And then run down stairs — 
MRS. JONES — For — my man's dinner! 
MRS. SMITH — What are you having to-night.? 
MRS. JONES — Chicken — or goose — or something! 
MRS. BROWN — At such ptices .? 
MRS. JONES — Mr. Jones pays them — 
MRS. SMITH — So does Mr. Smith — 
MRS. BROWN — And Mr. Brown — no matter — 
MRS. JONES — How high — 
MRS. SMITH — They go! 
MRS. BROWN — And I'll — 
MRS. JONES — Cook them — 
MRS. SMITH — Broil them — 
MRS. BROWN — Roast them — 
MRS. JONES — Fry them — 
MRS. BROWN — Hash them — 
MRS. SMITH — Stew them! 
MRS. JONES — Sundays! 
MRS. BROWN — Or Mondays! 
MRS. SMITH — Or — ^Tuesdays! 

They chuckle — nod — and vanish, 

CURTAIN 



[177] 




OF THIS EDITION FIFTY COPIES ARE PRINTED 

ON HANDMADE PAPER AND FINISHED SEPT., 

1920, OF WHICH THIS IS No. 00. SIGNED BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



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